


Birthday Buggs

by DarkPrinceOfClowns



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark, F/M, Insanity, M/M, Madness, Torture, Typical Joker-like Violence, Violent, very dark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:48:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 71,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27449641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkPrinceOfClowns/pseuds/DarkPrinceOfClowns
Summary: The Joker is not a nice guy. The word 'deranged' and 'sadistic' has been thrown around a lot. Even by his shrinks.But contrary to popular beliefs, he is not a psychopath. And every now and then the tattered remains of his humanity shines through.With a newly acquired son will the Clown Prince of Crime finally discover happiness, or will his madness claim yet another victim? And how will the wizarding world react to their new 'hero'?
Relationships: Harry/?, Joker (DCU)/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 51
Kudos: 90





	1. Freaks R Us

  


_**This Joker raising Harry fanfic is based on the comic books, more than anything else. And may well end up as Dark as Death of the Family.**_

 _ **But it's set earlier in the series than that.**_

 _ **Please read the notes at the bottom of the fic for any important notices**_

 _ **If I add a * to a sentence, it means there are notes at the end of the story explaining it.**_

 _ **Beyond that, read and enjoy this deliriously Dark delight. And remember:**_

 _ **When you find yourself locked onto an unpleasant train of thought, heading for the places in your past where the screaming is unbearable, remember; there's always madness. Madness is the emergency exit.***_

 _ **Have fun~**_

* * *

* * *

"Let me tell you a secret kid everyone's a freak.

Some people just feel like they have to hide it.

But not us. You have your insects, and I... I have alot."

* * *

* * *

The sun was slowly setting over the peaceful slice of fake heaven the residents called Private Drive, and Harry Potter was ripping the legs of bugs.

I wasn't so much a hobby as an outlet. A reaction to the hate and anger from the people around him. A way to feel powerful in a world that worked so hard to make him feel powerless. 

He hid it of course. It would haven been one more thing that would earn the verbal abuse of his aunt and uncle, but it was his little secret. And at the moment, neither of them was there to witness it.

It was his birthday, and he was daydreaming the same way he did every year. About a party. And colorful balloons. Maybe a bouncing castle or even a clown! Just like Dudley always got. His cousin always got something new and fun every single year, while Harry was never even allowed to join in on the fun. Not even once!

He wished he at the very least could get a clown. He had snuck a peak at the one Dudley had, and he was _so much_ fun!

It didn't even have to be a good clown! He'd be happy with just _a_ clown!

He picked up a large beetle and viciously tore of a leg. The trick was to only pull off the leg, not flesh or scales. One at the time. To make it last.

He was so focused on the task that he didn't even notice the somewhat creepy clown that was strolling down the quiet suburban road, looking quite shabby and out of place for the plastic fantastic neighborhood.

This clown had darkly green hair and his eyes were like vivid pools of acid. A wide Glasgow grin marred his surprisingly handsome face. Or it would have been handsome, if it wasn't for the fact that his skin was chalk white, and the red, red lips were stretched in an unnatural, almost feral grin. 

"Hi..." the clown leaned on the fence right next to him, looming overhead. "Whatcha' doing?"

To most people it would have been scary, to have such a figure looming over them. If his looks didn't scare you, his threatening demeanor would. But Harry was too surprised to register any fear.

"You came!" His voice came out in an awed breath, stars of delight dancing in his emerald eyes.

"I...huh?" the clown looked a bit miffed at Harry's outburst.

"Uncle Vernon DID get you for my party, didn't he?!" Harry looked up at the clown. His whole body was vibrating with excitement.

"Uncle?" he paused, "Is your uncle Vernon Dursley?" He looked contemplating down at the kid.

"Yeah."

"Then sure. Yeah. He got me. You're....?" the clown asked as he moved to sit down next to Harry.

"Harry."

"Harry, right. Do you always remove small bits of animals on your birthday?"

"Um..." he looked a bit worried. He'd never told anyone his secret, he knew people wouldn't like it.

"Can I join you?" the clown asked, much to his surprise.

"Really?!"

"Definitely." he smiled a wide, wide grin that stretched from ear to ear, quite literally

Harry had never seen anyone who could stretch their grin _that_ wide before!

"Do you kill the insects after?" the clown asked. His curiosity seemed genuine.

"Only if they try to get out of the box. If you kill them, you can't play with them anymore."

"You are wise beyond your years, Harry," the clown said and Harry beamed at the praise. He couldn't remember anyone ever praising him in his whole life. He liked this clown!

"When does the party starts?" the clown reached into the box and picked out a bug. With his tongue poking out in a look of deep concentration, he snapped off a leg.

"Oh, um..." Harry looked down. "I didn't know I was having one. I've never had a party before. I was just..." he rubbed his arm awkwardly.

"You can tell me, I'm the clown, remember?" 

"Nobody wants to be friend with the 'Freak'. But I thought maybe, just maybe, this year my aunt and uncle would hire me a clown or a pony... they aways do for my cousin."

He looked down before muttering under his breath.

"There's no parties for freaks."

"What?!" Seriously? You keep **one** box of tortured bugs and everyone's judgmental," the clown looked outraged and angry at his behalf, his hand rested on his chest in a sincere gesture.

It made Harry feel a strange, warm feeling in his chest. Nobody had ever taken his side before. He didn't want to mention that the bugs wasn't the only reason people called him a freak, but if he had, he felt like this nice clown wouldn't judge him for it anyway. He might even understand....

"I'll let you in on a secret, kid. Everyone is a freak. Some people just feel like they have to hide it. But not us. You have your insects and I....I have a lot."

"Is your uncle home?"

"No."

"But it's your birth.... You know, your uncle sometimes forgets important dates. I bet he forgot to send the invites and tell you about it." There was a gleam of angry madness swirling in the poisonous pools that was the clowns eyes. 

Harry looked at him, unsure what to think about those new, strange emotions he could see on the nice clown's face.

"Go inside, kid. Get ready. We're getting this party started."

"Really?" Harry couldn't believe his ears."

"Go...." the clown waved him towards the door with a shooing motion. "I'll handle the invitations."

The feral grin that now marred the clowns face was positively vicious in it's determination. Thankfully Harry had already turned to walk inside, gathering up his box of torture bugs, and thus never noticed.

He did, however, hear the distinct crack of a door being kicked open, and the sinister voice of the clown yelling out in the distance.

"Party Time!"

Harry rushed inside after that, and did not hear the screams that quickly followed.

Harry hurried to put the bugs away in his cupboard and rushed to the bathroom to wash up. He gave up fighting to make his hair lie flat after fighting it for ten minutes straight. He hurried to find his best clothes --much as they could be called that-- all eager and exited.

It had taken the clown nearly half and hour to round up every kid in Harry's class --including a break-in to the school to get a list of Harry's classmates-- but they were now huddled together outside the door of the Dursley household in a shivering, terror-filled herd. 

The bravest of the accompanying adults knocked on the door, but not before shooting a fearful glance at the homicidal clown behind them.

Harry opened the door wide, a big grin on his small face.

"Welcome!" he said, thankfully having a lot of practice with letting in the guests for Dudley's parties.

 _His_ party, he felt, was a blast! And Harry could not believe his good fortune.

The gifts were some of the most awesome gifts he had ever seen in his life! Granted, some of them looked played with and worn, and non of them were in their original boxes, but that was okay. He'd never gotten anything new before anyway. This was still great!

"Oh, thank you Malcom!" Harry stared at the top-of-the-line flying droid. "But I thought you love this thing?" he looked at the other boy, looking a bit confused. Malcom cast a quick, fearful glance at the clown before looking awkwardly back at Harry.

"Yeah...Haha...I...um... Just thought you'd like it more. Uh, yeah. Haha," 

Malcom sounded horribly nervous, especially with that weird laughter and all. But Harry figured that maybe he was worried Harry didn't like his gift. He'd seen that on the telly when his aunt was watching her soaps.

"It's great Malcom! I love it!" he beamed, and Malcom looked extremely relieved as the clown's facial expression softened, and ushered another kid to come give him their gift.

From there on the birthday party was everything Harry had ever dreamed of!

The kids all sang the birthday song for him --even if their smiles never quite reached their eyes, and one girl could barely squeak out a 'Happy birthday', while a second kid wet himself and had to borrow the loo to get cleaned up. For some reason he didn't seem to want to go home when Harry asked. He kept casting fearful glances at the clown, so maybe he was worried he'd miss the show.

All of it might have had something to do with the deranged clown that was always hovering behind Harry, gleefully grinning a wicked grin and pressing his gloved hands together in a grotesque mockery of fatherly pride.

They played a few birthday games, all of them which Harry won! It was a bit strange tho... It was almost like the other kids failed on purpose, but why would they do that? Nah. He just got lucky. Nobody failed a game on purpose. That was stupid.

The clown even did a few magic tricks with whatever he had on hands, and he was _amazingly_ good at it! Harry clapped the loudest of them all.

The clown stood behind him like a wicked vengeful specter as Harry blew out the lights on the birthday-cake. And by the wide wicked grin he was sporting, he looked mighty pleased with himself.

Just as they were getting ready to eat all the food that the nice parents had borough with them, Vernon came in through the door. 

"Uncle Vernon!" Harry beamed, running towards him, just to stop shy of hugging him. "This birthday was the best ever! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"

Vernon's hand lifted automatically, twitching to backhand the kid, but he held himself back. There was too many people around. But once they were alone--

Suddenly he noticed the clown, and all the color drained from his face, leaving it almost as chalk white as the face of the clown who was not casually walking towards him.

"Isn't it nice when people make the effort to show up?" he clasped his hands next to his face in an exaggerated happy gesture that contrasted darkly with the downright malicious grin on his painted face.

"Let's talk in the kitchen," the clown said. And the pale-faced Vernon wiped his sweaty forehead and followed him, looking for all the world like he was walking to his own slow, torturous death sentence.

Harry couldn't help but wonder if his uncle had gotten sick or something, but he was quickly distracted by his new, shiny toys and all the friends he was making. Or, well... Not making....

Everyone he was talking to seemed to stumble over what they would say, and quite a few was stuttering. But they treated him nice and laughed at his jokes, which was something he wasn't used to. However, it all seemed a bit forced. 

Somehow, Harry found it awkward to interact with kids when he never had before, no matter how much he'd always wanted too.

Ten minutes or more passed by before the clown came back out. He was holding a hot pot and headed for the table where all the snacks had been lined up.

"Hot dogs are ready~!" the clown sing-songed, placing the pot on the table, almost certainly melting a bit of the tablecloth in the process.

The adults were watching him with wary eyes, but the kids were all hungry. Non of them had had a chance to eat their own dinners at home before they were dragged out here, so they crowded around the table to get a piece.

The hot-dogs were disappointing small, however. Barely the size of a finger each. Exactly the size of one. And there were only five, so they had to fight to get a piece. They looked a bit funny too. But food was food...right?

"And I'm off." he waved at the room. "I'll be back next year. Don't worry about that," his words a grim promise.

Harry, however, had something more important than hot-dogs to think about. So he rushed after the clown just as he was about to walk out the door.

"Wait! Mr. Joker!"

"Yes?" the clown paused.

"I want you to have something! But it's in my room, I'll have to go get it." Harry said hurriedly, rushing towards the cupboard. Curiously the Joker followed the kid.

Something twitched in the Joker's chest and a furious red snarl flashed across his face when he realized that the kid's room was in the cupboard. A big house like this had at least tree bedrooms, maybe even more!

"I want you to have these." Harry said, pulling out a box. It looked strangely familiar.

"Your torture bugs? Harry. I'm touched. I will treasure them," he placed his hand loosely on his heart. He truly did look touched, in his own dramatic way. 

The clown reached down and hugged Harry close with his free hand, holding the box of bugs in the other.

"And I promise I'll only kill them if they try to get out of the box." his lips stretched wide in a feral grin, and his eyes locked with Vernon's in a malicious glare as he spoke. The meaning was obvious to them both. Vernon wiped his sweaty brow with a overused white handkerchief.

Then, in a fit of genius --or maybe as a whim-- Just as the clown looked into the kid's acid green eyes, so like to his own, he made a choice.

The choice echoed through the world like the shattered glass of broken destinies. Warm and thick like blood.

"Harry. What was your birthday wish?" he asked, knowing fully well the answer.

"A dad," he whispered, before raising his voice so the nice clown could hear him. "I want a real dad. But my real dad's dead..." Even so, he couldn't help but hope. Wish.

"Harry, look at me," the clown said, and Harry did. 

Harry looked.

"What if I was your dad? Would you like that?" he said.

He looked at the clown's green hair, spiking whichever way from his head, just like his own did. He looked at the clown's eyes which were the same shade of emerald green as his own. His face was very different, but then again, what did he know about faces?

"Are you my real dad?!" Harry gasped out, hoping beyond hope.

"I could be. If you'll let me," the Joker smiled his most charming smile. The same smile that had charmed so many of his victims. The last they had seen before insanity or death decedent upon their fragile little minds.

The clown held his big, cunning hand out towards the kid and waited.

Harry ignored the hand and threw himself at the clown, hugging him. He gave him his biggest grin, that --for all his effort-- could never matched the unnatural width of the scarred grin marring the face of the clown before him, but one that expressed a warmth and happiness one would never seen from the clown.

"Yes! So much yes!" Harry said, blinking away tears of joy.

"Come on then, kid. We better skedaddle before the uniformed party-crashers show up."

"Oh! My new toys!" Harry just remembered. 

"Good point. You!" he pointed at Vernon, "Get the kid a bag and stuff all his toys in it, and be quick!"

Vernon only nodded fearfully and rushed off to do as he said, and Harry stared at the clown --his dad-- in awe. He had never seen Vernon do what someone else told him before. His daddy had to be a really important person!

He proceeded to tell the clown that much, and the Joker let out a burst of mad laughter that would forever haunt the nightmares of the prissy housewives and children who heard it.

"Oh, believe me, kid. I am a very important clown!"

* * *

* * *

*Direct quote from the Joker in The Killing Joke.

This wonderful story came to mind while I was reading Birthday Bugs, and it struck me just how much the Joker seemed to pity that kid.

It's easy to forget that the Joker is NOT a psychopath/sociopath, but a perfectly normal guy who has experienced more pain than his mind could handle, and thus dissolved into madness as his only way out.

Mind you, he is not a NICE guy either!

This story is almost 100% based of the Joker story Birthday Bugs. In which 99% of this really DID happen, right down to the last word. (Yes, I quoted the Joker AND the kid...mostly. Harry has his own personality after all.)

It's been on my to-do list for a while, and I doubt I will ever abandon THIS story --if only because the Joker has always been one of my re-occurring obsessions, and I love him nearly as much as Harley Quinn does. 

Why do the best people only exist in storybooks....? *Sighs wistfully*

That aside, my other stories may go on a slight hiatus, because my current obsession make me think, breath and LIVE the Joker atm, but I WILL get back to them at some point or other, fear not.

Please feel free to comment. I do listen to requests and ideas, and I may even use some of them, if it fits in with what the Joker would logically do, and the story.

I have no clue where I'm going with this story, beyond Hogwarts and a few loose ideas, so feel free to tell me if you want to see more of Harry's life before Hogwarts, or take a short-cut with only the most pivotal moments that shapes him during his childhood.

And feel free to vote if you prefer the Joker to end up dating Batman later on or not, (I have another story involving Harley planned.) of if he should just continue as he does in canon.

(Which is to say, flirt incessantly, spend 99% of his time plotting ways to get Batman to pay attention to him, happily admit he loves him, say he is his soulmate and so on, while working his ass off to become the most important person in Batmans life via Hate. Yes, I just read Tree Jokers and Death of the Family. lol)

Enjoy~ *Laughs maniacally*


	2. Ride of a Lifetime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Once upon a very long time ago, there was a happy, happy place in a happy happy forest. And wouldn’t you just know it, this place was called Happyville!
> 
> Oh, and Happyville was the happiest place there ever EVER was! And everyone in Happyville knew each other and they were all the very best friends.
> 
> But all of that was about to change…"

"Oh, look. The nice people left their car running. It's gonna be a _runaway car!_ Hahahahahaha!!" the Joker laughed and got in, throwing the door open on the passenger side for Harry.

"You coming or what?"

"Is this your car? It's nice," Harry said jumped in, a little unsure about what to say. But the Joker laughed, so he must have said something right.

"It is now!" He grinned and kicked the car into gear, making Harry hold on for dear life.

  
"Don't forget your seat-belt kid. This is gonna be a **_wild ride!_** "

Harry grabbed the seat-belt and struggle to fasten it with the clown's laughter ringing in his ears. 

It didn't work too well, as it only fastened around his waist --there being no children's seat in the car-- but he'd probably survive a crash... He hoped. Because at the speed they were going, a crash seemed inevitable. He went pale as the car flew off another speed-bump and grabbed the dashboard.

The Joker, on the other hand, seemed to be having the time of his life as he speed down the suburban streets, making people throw themselves out of the way to not get hit.

  
"Lighten up and enjoy the ride!" the clown encouraged. "Here! Watch this!"

Harry couldn't help but laugh himself when one of the bullies from his school made a nosedive for a ditch to avoid getting run over. He'd never _seen_ him _that_ scared before!

The Joker looked over at his newly acquired kid and grinned widely.

"I like you kid. You get the joke," he leaned over to ruffle his hair, making Harry go stiff at the unfamiliar touch. But then he smiled shyly up at the clown, happy that someone was willing to touch him at all. The Dursley's hated it. Unless they were manhandling him in some way.

"Watch out!" Harry said and grabbed the dashboard again.

"Hahahahaha~" Joker laughed maniacally as the car suddenly became airborne, before he wrestled it back under control.

A small detour in a field later, and they were back on the road.

Harry felt his little heart beat wildly. Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

However, he couldn't help but laugh at the mad antics of the clown, and it made the whole drive a lot less scary and more of a fun adrenalin rush. He decided he liked it. Even if it **_was_** scary.

Or maybe he thought so because of the weird Funny-Juice the Joker had shared with him, right before they found the car. The one that tasted like cleaning products and strawberries and made him slightly dizzy. But it also made him feel good, so he decided he liked it.

* * *

They reached London in record-time, although they had to take a nosedive into the Thames to shake off the cops. Luckily for Harry, the Joker was an amazingly good swimmer, even with the extra burden of the child clinging onto him for dear life.

They were currently sitting at the docks, far away from where the car had gone down, and laughed as they watched the cops drag up the car and search for them further down the shoreline.

"Alright. We better get moving, kid. They're gonna realize we're not down there sooner or later."

"Okay _dad._ " Harry spoke the word in a near awe. Loving the fact that he finally had someone to call his dad. 

He reached for the large, cunning hands of the clown for comfort, and surprisingly enough, Joker allowed it. That too could be because of the funny-juice he was currently drinking. Although how he managed to grab the bottle from the car in all the chaos Harry had no idea.

Suddenly Harry gasped.

"Oh, no!"

"What's up?"

"Your bugs! We forgot them in the car!" Harry's lip quivered and he looked to be at the verge of tears.

"Aw, kiddo... C'm here!" Joker knelt pulled him into a hug, rolling his eyes at the kids antics behind his back.

"I'll get you something ever better to torture. You'll see!"

"But..." he bit his lip, not sure how to convey his feelings.

"Look, Harry..." He held Harry out by his shoulders, "I loved those bugs, I really did. But sometimes you just have to accept they're gone. Don't worry too much about it. Bugs, toys... We'll get more when we get back home, alright."

"Alright..." Harry wiped his tears away with the sleeve of his oversized shirt. He still felt sad they had lost them. He'd never had much in his life, so he appreciated every little thing that he did have.

"Where's home anyway?" Harry asked, suddenly curious about where he lived. He just couldn't imagine him living anywhere as boring as Private Drive. Maybe not even the big city of London. It just seemed...wrong somehow.

"Gotham," the Joker said. He sounded wistful, almost sad. Did he miss his home?

"Gotham?"

"It's in the states. I just have to take care of some business here first, and then we'll be on the first flight out there," his lips twisted into a bitter grin, 

"Can't let Batsy get all lonely because I'm not there to play with him, no can I?" he said, and Harry quickly shook his head, wondering who 'Batsy' was. What a weird name.

"Wait... I get to fly?!" Harry said, suddenly exited again. "All the way cross the Pond?!"

"Sure. How else are we gonna get there? Swim?" he laughed at his own bad joke. The laughter was contagious, however, and Harry couldn't help but giggle at his daddy's antics.

"Alright kid. We better hurry up and get some dry clothes," he pulled at his purple suit. "Too bad... I really liked this suit. Ah, well... C'la Vie!" he flung his hands out in a dramatized shrug.

Harry smiled and looked admiringly up at his dad. He seemed so laid back and easy going. He never even got angry. At least not at Harry. He was the polar opposite of his aunt and uncle, and Harry loved it!

"Alright. You go stand over there and tell me if anyone comes. I'm just gonna hot-wire this car and we'll be off."

Harry wasn't sure what 'Hot Wiring' was, but his dad had trusted him with a task, and he was determined to not let him down.

* * *

About fifteen minutes later --driving at a more reasonable speed this time-- they found themselves in the center of Camden.

"Quality's gonna suck, but where else can you find purple pinstriped pants in this cruel, humorless world?"* the Joker made a dramatic sigh. 

Harry nodded. His dad just wouldn't be his dad without purple pinstriped pants. At least he couldn't imagine him in something common like jeans.

He looked down on his own oversized clothes of undetermined grey-brown color and suddenly felt very self-aware. He wished _he_ had funny clothes too. It seemed an important thing to have.

The one good thing about Camden was that nobody looked at them twice.

Oh, sure, a guy looking like a clown dragging a young child around, both wet to the core was bound to stand out but...eh... not so much in Camden. 

In all fairness, green hair was commonplace, and heavy makeup not exactly an unusual sight.

The only thing unusual thing about them was the wet clothes, but really... They could have just fallen in the river. There was a canoe school not 100 yards up the road.

"Oh, before I forget..." the Joker pulled out a very wet credit-card, and did his best to dry it before pushing it into the machine.

"Damnit! That spoilsport **_blocked it!_** " he grumbled, tossing it aside, before trying another one. 

This time it worked.

"Hah! I **_knew_** that rich kid wouldn't even notice it missing!" he grinned widely as he withdrew the maximum amount of cash he could and pushed it into a wallet that was somehow miraculously dry and looked brand new. 

When did he pick that one up?

"It's better to not cause a stir when you're going shopping," he told Harry in a lecturing voice. "They rush you... They call the cops... You get blood aaaall over your new clothes... Just listen my advice and just... _don't!_ "

Harry nodded and decided to remember that, even if he didn't fully understand what the man meant with 'causing a stir'.

Several hours and and an unknown amount of money later they exited from the Camden marked. They both looked and felt better than they had done, ever since their little dip in the Thames. 

Harry looked better than he had in his entire life, having clothes that actually fit him! _And_ that were funny!

It wasn't anything nearly as stylish as the Joker's pants or his --much to the Joker's dismay-- regular blue shirt --courtesy of the only upscale shop in the entire district-- but it was his. And rather colorful at that. If one counted red and black as colorful.

His dad promised him that they'd get better clothes once they were home, but this would have to do for now. Harry could not help but stare at him, little stars of adoration glowing in his eyes.

"What?" the Joker said, glaring at him.

"Nothing!" Harry said quickly and looked away blushing, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Yeah, well, if it's nothing then let's go! Chop-chop! We need to find a place to bunker down for the night, and **_I_** need to get some new _**toys**_." he pulled out what looked like a very wet toy gun the size of a regular pistol, duck-taped and painted in green and purple. Written in big, red letters on the side was the word "BLAM!"

He sighed and put it away, before looked around.

"Why don't you go to that funny clown over there--" He pointed at the MacDonnalds mascot.

"--and have some dinner, and we'll meet up here in-- Say about an hour," The Joker tossed Harry the wallet with the rest of the money and proceeded to walk over to the car they had taken out there, not giving Harry a chance to protest.

"...okay..." Harry said, mostly to himself as his dad was currently driving off without him. Then he shook his head and smiled.

His dad was a bit strange sometimes. His mood went from high to low in a split second, and at one point he'd been sure he was going to kill one of the the shopkeepers, but he had only smashed a hole in the wall and threatened him to keep his mouth shut about it.

The poor guy had pissed his pants!

Harry put his hand over his mouth to hold back the giggles that welled up in him at the memory.

His day may be a bit weird, but he was still a million times better than the Dursleys!*

* * *

Harry taken care of the Joker set off to find a place they could lay low for awhile. Preferably somewhere nice and abandoned that nobody really cared about.

Driving around London yielded precious little results in so far as abandoned houses or storage facilities went, but he did manage to locate a place that seemed to only be occupied by a couple of squatters. He recognized the signs easily.

People that nobody would miss. Perfect. 

He walked up to the door and gave a quick look around to make sure nobody was watching and there was no CCTV nearby. Thankfully this house seemed to be narrowly missed by the only one he could see.

He pulled out a key-chain with bumping keys and used the one that fitted best on the door. Expensive lock, cheap cylinder _in_ the lock. Pair for the course in most middle-class neighborhoods, really. 

A few light smacks on the back of it with his wet and useless cellphone, a small twist, and the door clicked open.

The Joker grinned as he walked in and locked the door behind him. It wouldn't do to let any of the temporarily 'owners' escape and call the cops. If they even dared, considering they might be arrested themselves. Or was squatting legal over here? He thought he had heard something like that.

As he looked over towards what seemed to be a kitchen, he noticed that someone was already there. Too bad, the kitchen had the best weapons in the house, but he was nothing if not good at improvising.

The hallway was tragically bare, a clear sign that nobody was really supposed to be living here. He furrowed his brow. Not so much as a pencil. He kinda wish he had a pencil.

The his eyes landed on an old router with nice, long antennas. Well... He doubted their internet was up and running anyway, and one simply had to make do with what one got.

He broke off one of the antennas and poked the tip. Not exactly sharp, but it would do. Might hurt his hand in the process, but he doubted he'd feel anything. At least there was _something_ good about all that nerve-damage.

Sneaking up on the woman in the kitchen, he quickly rushed in and grabbed her neck, slamming her into the wall. In her shock she hardly even fought, merely stared at him all wide eyed.

He supported the antenna as much as he could with his palm, and drove it into the woman's eyes with as much force as he could muster --which was quite a lot. He might look skinny, but he had the body of an athlete under his fancy, purple suit.*

She let out a strangled shriek, that would have been a scream had she still had air in her lungs. Pressing antenna hard enough to almost make it break, it penetrated far beyond the eyes and into the woman's brain. The result was not pretty, but fairly efficient.

"What was that? I can't hear you doll, I seem to have a bad reception!" He dissolved into giggles at his own pun as the woman slid down the wall. She was still twitching weakly when he left her to go clear the rest of the house.

One down, one to go.

It was a good thing that the only squatters there was a british couple and non of their friends. It would have been irritating if he had to kill a full fledged romanian family or someshit.

Not that he minded killing, but it seemed pointless to do so if he wasn't going to make a statement out of it. There was little art in mindless slaughter. And even less entertainment.

Picking up a nice, big kitchen knife he proceeded to check all the other rooms, before walking up the stairs to find the woman's boyfriend.

He grined as he heard the unmistakable sound of someone singing in the shower. 

Perfect! It was always easier to surprise someone who was preoccupied with something else, and the stupid dolt had even left the door open. It was practically an invite to kill him!

He quickly stepped inside and covered the man's mouth with his hand and tilting his head back, while slicing open his throat with the knife in his other hand. It was messy work, but he was in the shower. Most of the blood would wash away quickly enough.

He kept holding the man until the blood finally stopped gushing out of him, then let him drop to the floor of the surprisingly large shower-stall.

He washed the knife before dropping it into the sink and proceeded to wash his hands.

It took no time at all to rinse the blood off the walls, but he suspected the body wasn't completely drained yet, so he left him there while he went to deal with his girlfriend. 

He turned off the shower and walked downstairs, cursing loudly over that fact that he just got this suit, and it was already wet!

Oh, well... The house seemed to have central heating that were still working, and he could always throw his clothes over the heater while he moved the bodies somewhere where small, curious minds wouldn't find them and get traumatized too quickly.

It might be for the best if he eased the kid into things like these. He needed him to trust him and rely on him for his plan to work. It might not look so good if he discovered what a fiendish, psychotic monster he was just yet.

The Joker stretched and got to work, whistling what sounded like Jingle Bells, but the grotesque follow-up lyrics was anything _but._

'No rest for the wicked.'

* * *

"Hey, kiddo! Over here!" The Joker flung the door of the car open for his son.

"Lookie what I got~" the Joker chirped playfully and waved a oversized lollipop towards Harry, making the boy giggle and reach for it as he walked towards the car.

Suddenly he felt someone grab his arm and pull him away from the car.

"Ow, let go!"

"Didn't your parents tell you not to take candy from strangers?" a stern face police officer said.

"No! Let me go! Daaad! Help me!"* he said and kicked the officer to make him loosen his hold, but the annoying stranger kept holding him.

"I think there has been a misunderstanding, officer. Now kindly let my son go." the Joker said and glared at the policeman. His hand twitched to pull out his new gun and shoot him, but he restrained himself. It would cause far too many problems to give in to his anger right now.

Luckily for the policeman he was only mildly annoyed. Had he been pissed off he wouldn't have hesitated a second.

  
"Is that really your dad?" he asked the kid. Harry just rolled his eyes.

  
"Of _course_ it is! Can't you see how alike we look?!"

The Policeman stared at the bright eyed kid with a bad tempter, and the green-haired, chalk white clown... 

There was no similarities in their face, but they _did_ have the same eye-color, and equally messy hair. But the kid was wearing glasses and the clown's face was looked like someone had sliced his mouth open from ear to ear, disfiguring the face horribly, so that could be why they didn't look alike to him. The kid seemed to know him, and that was the important thing.

He let go of the kid, and took his hat off, looking a bit awkward and apologetic.

"Oh, I see sir. My apologizes then. But you must understand how it looked from my view..."

"Yes, yes," he waved him off, "Apology accepted. Harry, get in the car, we haven't got all day."

The policeman frowned, but let the kid get in the car. It was obvious that the man knew the kid, and that the kid trusted him, so he really couldn't interfere. But something about him just rubbed him the wrong way.

"Thanks dad," the kid said, grabbing the loli before turning to give the policeman the stink-eye.

"Put on your seatbelt. I've dealt with enough idiots as it is."

"Yes dad." 

That was the last the policeman heard of them, before the door was slammed shut and the car took off at a speed that was only just within the speed-limit, and he suspected would stay that way only for as long as there was other cars slowing them down.

Nothing he could do about it now. He placed his hat back on, picked up his transmitter and reported the incidence. That was sadly the only thing he could do.

* * *

Harry smiled as he snuggled under the nice, warm blanket in his new bedroom. It might be a bit bare, and a lot of trash seemed to be scattered around the place, but it still beat the small closet he used to live in at his aunt and uncle's house.

And that was without even mentioning how nice his dad was! Why, when Harry went to pick up the trash --used to cleaning up after the Dursley's as he was-- his dad told him to not bother.

He didn't have to cook. He didn't have to clean. He didn't have to do anything!

And on top of that his dad bought him food and clothes and toys, and he even told him to keep the rest of the money!

Little Harry Potter fell asleep with a big smile on his little face that day.

* * *

"Get up, kid!" the Joker kicked the bed a few times, waking him up. The thing was creaking dangerously from the assault.

"Umh... What?" Harry rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, only to see his daddy looming over him.

"Chop-chop. Time's a-flying, birds are pissing on worms and all that crap!"

His dad seemed to be in a fairly good mood as he skipped out of the room, leaving Harry to get ready and go downstairs.

 **"And take a fucking shower while you're at it, kid! That bath in the river don't count!"** he shouted up from the bottom of the stairs, and Harry smiled. His dad was so funny.

When he came down to the kitchen he found his dad pouring whiskey into his coffee and looked around to see what was for breakfast. He couldn't see anything cooking, however. Maybe he had to make it himself...?

He opened the fridge door and frowned. There was.. _.something_...coagulating in a Tupperware box, a dried out old onion, and an open jar of Marmite. Non of the options was particularly attractive.

"We'll get some grub later. Here. Have some Wakey Juice instead," the Joker pushed a second cup of coffee over to his son. 

Harry decided to try some. It smelled good at least. He carefully took a small sip.

 _"Yuck!"_ Harry said, scrunching his little face up. That was disgusting! How could adults drink this?!?

The Joker doubled over in laughter at the kid's reaction, almost spilling his own coffee in the process.

"You'll get used to it, kid. 'fraid that's all we got in the house."

Harry nodded at his dad and made a silent vow to go to the store sometime today. He didn't mind being without food, he was used to it, but... When he could eat he liked to do so. And his dad clearly wanted him to have yummy food and nice things. Unlike his aunt and uncle...

He forced himself to drink the bitter brew and hoped it would start taste better soon. He really was hungry, he hadn't eaten since before his birthday party yesterday, unless you counted the one burger he had at MacDonald --he hadn't wanted to spend too much money, in case his dad got mad at him for it. And a small slice of cake and some candy is no substitute for real food.

The Joker's phone rang in his pocket and he picked it up. 

"Mhm. Mhm," the Joker took a sip from his spiked coffee as he listened.

"And you're saying the Arifs..."* a short pause, "I see." He cast a glance at the clock on the wall.

"Alright, Lou. I'll meet you at the pub in ten....better make it twenty. You know what to do."

He hanged up and grabbed his coat off the table.

"Well?" he raised an eyebrow looking at Harry who was still sitting at the table. Harry looked back confused.

"You coming or what?" he asked, looking slightly irritated at having to explain it.

Harry jumped off the chair and picked up the purple checkered zip-up hoodie he had gotten yesterday and rushed to his dad's side.

His had smiled and ruffled his hair. It was good to work with someone who actually listened and jumped to obey him for a change. It almost made him miss Harley. She was dumb as bread, but she had her uses.

He chuckled to himself as they walked out the front door, closing it, but didn't bother with locking. Not like he had a key anyway.

* * *

"Lou!"

"Mr. J, sir." A rotund man scrambled to his feet to greet him, before stopping short as he noticed Harry.

"Don't mind him, just tell the guys to be ready," he said, before turning to Harry.

"You still got your money, right?" 

Harry nodded, looking a bit intimidated by the strange clientele of the shabby bar they were at.

"Great. Now just sit put here, buy yourself breakfast, coffee, whiskey, hell if I care, just stay put! Can you do that?"

"Yes dad!" Harry promised, hoping his dad wasn't going to be too long. He didn't like the way some of the other people looked at him.

Apperantly, his dad didn't like the way they looked at him either, because he reached into his pockets and pulled out a home-made taser that was brightly colored in purple with little green polkadots on it.

"Here. If anyone gets too close, or does something that annoys you, just poke them with the pointy ends," he pointed at the screws sticking out from it, "and press this button, okay?" He demonstrated for the kid, and Harry almost jumped at the buzzing sound it made.

"Oh, and this is important... Do not touch the pointy ends yourself!" he looked at Harry seriously.

"I didn't go through all this trouble only to find my kid having frying himself on an overpowered taser. Got it?!"

Harry gulped at the implication, but he nodded. Hopefully he never had to use this weird toy, it sounded scary, but at least he now he had something to defend himself with. Just in case.

"Good boy," the Joker patted his head, which made Harry relax and smile.

"Alright, Lu-Lu. Lead the way~" his mood was back to being playful. It seemed to change at a hair-trigger. His serious face never stayed for long tho. And Harry felt as tho it might have never even happened. It was confusing to say the least.

Harry shrugged and went over to the bar to order himself some breakfast. At least he knew he could safely buy as much as he wanted, and not have to worry about his dad being angry with him for wasting money.

...not that he was entirely sure where, or from _who_ those money had come. He had feeling his dad might have done something bad to get them. 

But he quickly pushed that thought away. His dad was super-nice and funny. No _way_ would he _ever_ so anything bad!

As he stared at the menu, his dad's words came back to him and left him with one very persistent question...

'What's Whiskey?'

* * *

Harry squeezed his eyes shut against the sun. Ooooh, his head hurt, and why was it so bloody bright? He curled back up under the blanket and shivered.

"You awake kid?" the Joker kicked the bed-frame a few times for good measure.

"I'm sick...." Harry groaned out in a pitiful voice.

The Joker dropped a couple of white pills on the table next to his bed, and set down a glass of water to go with it.

"Take those and wash up. We got a lot to do today."

Harry groaned but got up. He knew being sick wasn't an excuse not to work, his uncle had shouted it at him enough times for him to know that. But he had hoped... 

No! He couldn't be ungrateful! His dad was the best dad in the world. No _way_ he would let _him_ down!

He did, however, make a run to the bathroom to throw up first. Then he swallowed down the small, white pills his daddy had been nice to give him. Hopefully they'd make everything better.

It took a while for them to work, and they didn't make him any less queasy, but at least his headache wasn't so bad anymore.

He did wonder what his dad had in store for him today tho. It seemed as if he was never doing the same thing twice... although he hadn't been with him for long enough to say that for sure.

* * *

"Remember; Breath deeply, let it all out, hold your breath aaaand pull the trigger!"

BLAM

The shot rung through the basement and missed the target itself, the pile of junk and furniture it was standing on, and firmly lodged itself into the stone walls next to it. At least he missed the roof this time.

"Better. Now try again. And this time, don't jump when it goes off!" 

Those who knew him --mostly by reputation-- would have been surprised at how patient he was with Harry. 

Those who really knew him was well aware that he could spends week, even months, sitting still and working on his ever more convoluted plans to lure out Batman to their little 'dance', and --on one notable occasion early in his career-- he even spent several hours hiding in a bathroom stall just so he could threaten a guy to leave Batman alone.*

"Again!"

More shots rung out over the room. Sometimes his dad would guide his hands, sometimes he had to do it by himself. But little by little he felt less scared of the gun, and little by little his aim got better. 

"Again"

* * *

 _"Once upon a very long time ago, there was a happy, happy place in a happy happy forest. And wouldn’t you just know it, this place was called Happyville!_

 _Oh, and Happyville was the happiest place there ever EVER was! And everyone in Happyville knew each other and they were all the very best friends."*_

Harry curled up close to his daddy as he read him his bedtime story. This one his dad had written himself, just for _him_. He had even drawn cute pictures to go with it! 

Harry watched his daddy reading and occasionally giggled at the funny pictures in it.

He snuggled up to his daddy and laughed at the funny voices he made, and smiled at his vivid description of the people and places. His dad was an amazing storyteller.

“Step right up! Step right up!” he declared, as he pulled the starting cord, and the rumble of the device’s small engine, the smell of diesel fumes, filled the spring air…

And the blades and teeth of Mr. Smiles’ happy machine began to spin and spin. And the critters of Happyville all lost their heads in the excitement. Right off. **Plop!"**

"Is that their heads? They look funny." Harry pointed at the pictures and giggled. 

The heads had big X-es for eyes and their little tongues sticking out and everything. It was drawn in a very childish style and looked absolutely adorable, and _very_ funny.

"That's right, kid. They are funny, aren't they." the Joker laughed and ruffled the hair of his adopted son. Maybe he _did_ get the Joke.... So few did...

* * *

Harry hauled the heavy grocery bags into the kitchen, and started stocking the fridge. But not until he'd disposed on the stuff that seemed to him to be slowly developing into some kind of weird, creepy life-form.

His dad was always working, and he _clearly_ didn't have time to cook, so Harry decided that since his daddy wasn't going to take care of himself, he would!

"Hey, kiddo. I got a meeting in ten. When you're done here, skedaddle for a couple of hours, will ya?" the Joker said and threw him a wad of cash, making Harry smile. His daddy was spoiling him rotten, and he loved it!

"Okay dad. I'll just be in my room. I still haven't played with all of those those new toys you got me. I can't _wait_ to try the Fun Gun!" he said and rushed to hug his dad.

"Yeah, yeah. You're cute. Now vamoose," the Joker smiled as he ran his hand through Harry's hair, before sending him off to his room.

"Oh, and stay out of the basement!" he yelled after him, hoping he heard him. Eh. He doubted the kid would go near it anyway. Why would he?

Too bad the Joker did not know kids well. If he had, he might have checked where his kid was before he locked it....

* * *

Harry snickered to himself. The basement door was right next to the kitchen, so now he could hear everything his dad would be talking about! He could hardly wait!

And he wasn't _really_ going into the basement! He was just inside the door. That wasn't the _basement_ , that was the _stairs._

As he listened, he heard the phone ringing and his dad answering the call. It was working! He could hear him loud and clear! ...more or less.

"..es? What? Why the fuck not?!" a pause. "You did what?! Stay there! I'm on my way! And if you screw this up.....!"

Harry wondered what had happened, and almost reached for the door to ask, when he remembered he shouldn't be down here. He'd wait until his dad was gone and then sneak out.

He suddenly heard a click, and stared at the door in shock.

"That should keep him out while I'm gone." the voice of his dad muttered as it quickly vanished in the distance.

It took him a few moments to shake of the shock, but once he had, he tried the door and found that it was locked.

Fuck.

Now what would he do?!

Wait... Maybe there was a window or something in the basement. He hadn't actually gone all the way down, he'd been too busy thinking about a good spot to listen, and that was right inside the door.

'....Why didn't daddy want me down here in the first place? I guess I might as well find out. It'll be like...an adventure!'

Harry fumbled his way downstairs, patting down the wall for the light-switch first. It turned out it was located halfway down the stairs, not that the stairs was that long. 

He finally found the switch and flicked it on. And promptly let out a horrified scream.

There, hap-haphazardly thrown down the stairs laid two very dead people. One of them still had a modem antenna sticking out of her eye, and there was a large gash across the throat of the other, separating flesh from flesh in a rather gruesome way.

It had been a few days since they were thrown down there. And despite the fact that they had once been rather skinny people, they had now bloated up to being almost twice the size.

The eyes were bulging out of the head like bugs eyes, and the tounge had swollen to abnormal proportions and looked like it was trying very hard to escape the mouth. The face was also covered in some kind of disgusting yellow-ish liquid, and their bodies were specked with a wide variety of bugs.

Now... Normally Harry had nothing against bugs, but there was something about seeing them crawling all over the bodies of what must once upon a time have been humans that made Harry lean over the railing and throw up.

 _"Daaad!_ _**Dad!!!"**_ he rushed up the stairs and pounded on the door in blind panic. He tried to bash it open using his shoulder, putting all the force he could muster behind it, but it was no use. The door refused to budge.

He kept pounding and pounding, even scratching it with his nail like a wild animal when it didn't work.

But as time flew past in an excruciatingly slow motion, his little arms became tired, his fingers hurt, and he felt himself grow weaker and weaker.

" _Dad...!"_ Harry sobbed out. 

His tired pounding slowly subsided and he curled up in a frightened bundle and just _cried._

He wished he could go down there and find a way out, but the creepy...things...were blocking his path.

He tried not to look, but he couldn't stop himself from noticing the smell.

At first he had thought it was trash --the house wasn't exactly clean, and trash had built up in the corners even more as neither him nor his dad could be bothered to throw things out into the trashcans. 

It smelled like they had gone to the potty in their pants, combined with the smell of that very old slice of meat he had thrown out from the fridge, and rotten eggs-- just to start off. All in all, it was beyond disgusting!

And it was a constant reminder of what was waiting for him down that staircase, if only he would turn to look.

Harry tried hard _not_ to look. _Not_ to think. To shut down all those pesky emotions and just **_not_** know!

Time seemed to crawl to a halt as he was waiting for his daddy to come find him. To come save him from this horror!

It could have been minutes, or hours, or years.... It felt like a very, very long time at least, before he finally heard the front door open and slam shut.

"Honey I'm hooooomeee~" 

He heard his dad's sing-song voice, and the sound of loose change being tossed onto the small end-table in the hallway.

 **"** _Dad!_ Dad!" Harry quickly returned to pound at the door with all his might, a sense of desperate hope filling him.

"What the _fuck_ are you doing in there?!" the Joker asked asked him, as he ripped the door open. 

Harry flung himself at his dad. He clung to his slightly disheveled shirt and started to cry.

"I'm sorry dad. I'll never disobey you ever again! I promise!" Harry sobbed into his west, soaking it with his tears.

The Joker looked a bit surprised, before he started chuckling and hugged his son close. Why he ever thought it would work to shield the kid he'd never know. Nor why he bothered to try. It was almost funny, really.

"Why so glum, chum? What you need, is a good dose of old uncle J's tickling cure!" he poked Harry's nose. 

"They say laughter is the best medicine after all!" The Joker grinned as he started to tickle his son, trying to force a laugh out of him. 

When anything bad happened. When he felt like shit, and his mind screamed in pain and misery, it always helped him to laugh. Not that he could control it, it just happened. But it helped.

It didn't take the pain away, but it _did_ help him see the Funny side to his pain and suffering. Which always made him feel better in the end.

It was better to laugh than to cry. He knew that better than anyone. 

The Joker put the kid down and got up.

"Come on kid. I'll make some pop-corn and we'll watch a comedy show. You drink this happy-juice and go pick out a nice comedy on my laptop, and we'll have you laughing in no time!" 

He tossed the kid a flask filled with some kind of unidentifiable alcoholic substance, before he walked into the kitchen to make them some popcorn. 

Nobody could say he didn't know how to cheer people up!

Harry stared at the flask in his hand, confused and feeling.... he wasn't sure what he felt. 

But it didn't feel good.

He had felt so helpless and insecure down there. Even more than he ever did with his aunt and uncle. But, then, he'd been so _happy_ when his daddy saved him! He was so grateful for it he didn't know how to thank him!

And then his dad made him laugh...which was nice. Or at least distracting. And confusing. And now he wasn't sure what he felt anymore!

He jumped when he heard the first popcorn pop. And the second. He watched the room around him, worried the scary things that had done that to those not-people-people downstairs would get to him and his dad too.

He unscrewed the cork and took a sip of the flask, and made a face. It tasted awful!

But if it would make the bad feelings go away, he could live with some bad taste. Medicine always tasted bad.

Maybe those comedies would be a good thing. He didn't want to think about those horribly staring eyes or the other disgusting...things...in the basement.

He touched his cheek and much to his surprise found it was wet again. He thought he had stopped crying. 

He took another sip and went to the living room. His head was starting to feel that nice-dizzy feeling again. He felt calmer, if only a little.

His dad was right. Laughter was a much better feeling! He wanted to laugh, not cry! He didn't want to be anything like mean old Mr. Pouts!

He tried to laugh but it sounded forced. He opened the laptop with a new determination. He would laugh! He hated those icky feelings, and he loved to laugh. His dad was right. He needed to laugh again!*

* * *

"Don't think about it, kid," the Joker hugged his son, trying to calm him down from his most recent nightmare.

"But it was--"

"I know. I know. I have bad dreams too y'know."

"Really?" Harry looked up at his dad, his eyes wide, "But I thought adults weren't scared of anything!" he said, which made the Joker shake with laughter.

"Oh, Harry... Adults are scared of many things! Why... Some are even scared of _me!"_ he sounded suspiciously happy about that fact.

"Okay, okay. Look, kid... I'm gonna get you some of the pills I take when I have bad dream, and that should...help. With some luck you'll sleep just fine. It's not like you took a nosedive into a chemical vat and is now resistant to chemicals, right?" he chuckled at his own words.

"I don't think so." Harry smiled. His dad was always good at cheering him up and chasing the bad feelings away. Even if they kept coming back.

The last few days had been strange and difficult and painful and exiting, but he wouldn't trade it for anything! His dad was the best dad in the whole wide world!

"Alright. I'll read you a story. Which one do you want to hear?"

"Can you read me the one about Mr. Smile and the Sad Doctor? It had a nice, happy ending... I think."

 _"Sure thing kiddo."_

 _" Happyville was sound asleep, all except one…_

 _Mr. Smiles was restless, and try as he might, he just could not sleep._

 _You see, Mr. Smiles was trapped in the Magic Castle, and he could not leave. And there was only ONE PERSON who could help Mr. Smiles."_

Harry snuggled up closer and let his dad wrap the blanket tighter around him. Nothing bad could get him while his dad was here. He looked like he was made of ice and snow, but he was surprisingly warm and nice. Harry smiled and listened to his daddy's soothing voice.

 _" …and this is about a very, VERY bad man. A man who wanted to RUIN everything in Happyville._

 _The bad man’s name was Mr. Pouts. And all Mr. Pouts ever wanted to do was to make the Laughter STOP._

 _And the brave Mr. Smiles fought Mr. Pouts, and bought the Sad Doctor time to run and run and find his family so he could laugh again."_

Harry yawned and curled up to his dad, his little eyes slowly dropping down as exhaustion and the sleeping pills caught up to him.

 _" And so our story finally comes to its end, the Sad Doctor found himself where he was meant to be all along, in the Magic Castle…_

 _…while mean old Mr. Pouts sulked in the Shadows once more. Which, of course, was where HE belonged TOO._

 _And Mr. Smiles was FREE to spread Mirth and Joy._

 _The End."_

And Harry slept peacefully for the first time in days.

* * *

"Harry. Sit down. I think we need to have a little talk."

"..." Harry looked up at his dad with fear evident in his eyes. Had he done something wrong? His dad was _never_ serious unless he was mad at someone!

But the Joker smiled and stroked his hair and he relaxed again.

"Kid... I know what you saw down there wasn't exactly the prettiest sight, but that's not what's bothering you, is it?"

"It's just..." he squirmed, but didn't want to lie to his dad, "You killed those people, didn't you?" He looked away. He didn't want to accuse his dad of anything, but...

"Of course I did! How else would we get a nice hideout for the week?"

The way he looked at Harry like he was stupid made him blush and suddenly feel very insecure.

"But..." he chewed on his lip. "Isn't killing... _.bad?"_

"Nonsense. You wanna know what I think?" he asked, and Harry nodded.

"I think Life's a Joke! And Death... Death's the punchline." 

Harry frowned, trying hard to understand what he meant.

"Look, kid. It's like this...."

Harry sat up, listening attentively to his father's Very Valuable Life Lesson.

"Humans... They are all already dead. Just walking sacks of meat just waiting to die. They just need a little...help. Just a small _push_ towards the inevitable.*

Just look around you! In this world, human lives is a joke, and a bad one at that.

Hell... I went insane when I saw what a black, awful joke the world was. I went as crazy as a coot! I admit it!

But my point is.... You're not unintelligent! You must see the reality of the situation.

Do you know how many times we've come close to world war tree over a flock of geese on a computer screen?

Do you know what triggered the last world war? An argument over how many telegraph poles germany owed its war debt creditors!

Telegraph poles! HahahahahaHA." he laughed to himself.

"It's all a joke! Everything anybody ever valued or struggled for\-- it's all a monstrous, demented gag!

So why can't people see the Funny side? Why aren't they laughing?

I'll tell you why....

Most people live their whole life being afraid of living. They lie about on their couch watching TV shows melts their brain into a somewhat entertained puddle of **_Stupid!_**

Most of them will keep watching a show they don't even like, just to finish it. How sad is that?!

Nobody ever does anything of any real value. Not that such a thing really exists, but they don't even **_try!_**

All people meets the oppertunity to become a Villain or a Hero at least _once_ in their lives. But they **_don't take it!_**

I think this is because of the mediocrity of their lives atrophies their spirits.

Waking up every day to the same person who stopped loving them years ago.

And then proceeding to a job they not-so-quietly never wanted.

They live their whole life like that. Like the walking dead. Miserable.

Even when they _think_ they're happy they're usually just to busy to notice they're not.

And when they're not working or trekking along in their old, draw-up tracks, fighting for a relationship that's already dead, they're spending time complaining to their friends about just how much their lives sucks. But they're too damned scared to do anything about it!!

He looked over at Harry, and let out a slight chuckle as he saw the kid trying very hard to understand the difficult concepts that even adults struggled to understand. But then he went serious again. This was important. He _had_ to understand it.

"Look... All those people, what they want, what they think they need... They chase after it in their little rat race. Always on the move. Always nibbling and snapping at each-others feet. Never taking the time to just have fun. To enjoy life. To be happy. To laugh.

They are too busy building a life to ever really live it!

Me... I wanted beauty. That's all I have everwanted.

All I ever have wanted is to create things that are beautiful.

I want to create things that no one has ever seen before.

I want the sublime!"

"So... you're like an Artist?" Harry asked curiously.

"Now that would just be pretentious. No, I have always considered myself more of an entertainer, really. 

But then again, who am I to say? Maybe I am an artist.

I do like to challenge them. You see.... I aim to give my audience what they need, not what they want.

Happiness.

Laughter.

Yes, Laughter most of all.

That is truebeauty.

I mean... If you can't enjoy the doing, then why bother, right?

Life is meant to be savored.

Laughter is the only true beauty left in the world. Humanity needs laughter, more than anything else! 

Killing someone in a humorous way....it's almost a... performance art. To kill people, just the right way.

I give those poor sods more Value in Death than they ever had in life!

In life, they were nothing but brain-dead monkey's. Glued to their TV dramas and clinging to families and relationships that are long past saving, unable to let go. What value is there is such dreary doldrums? 

Half of them has at some point or other already wished they were dead. A number of those have even tried to die. Some merely tempt death, others go all out and _kill_ themselves. But they still desire that grand death, the **_grand finale_** to their drearyexistence. 

The show's over, exit stage left.

And I... I design a killer punchline! A way for the world to remember them in a way nobody ever would had their deaths been as dull as their lives!" 

The Joker spoke his words with a fatal finality. Like the words of a prophet, believing each and every thing he said. And Harry couldn't help but feel they rang true....

"Sooo.... You're. . . Helping people by killing them?" Harry said, frowning as he tried to understand.

"No, no, no! I'm helping them by giving them an exceptional death! Something glorious to be remembered for ages! The biggest, _best_ **_Punchline_** to this _**joke**_ of a life there is!" He paused. 

"Sometimes they even Laugh themselves to Death!"

"And it's fun to watch too, right? Like the comedy shows!" Harry perked up.

"Exactly!"

"But some people... some people can just never understand that, as simple as it is.

Some people will always want to ruin what is beautiful." Joker sounded bitter as he spat out the last words. Harry gasped.

"Who would do such a thing?!"

 _"Batman..."_ the Joker muttered under his breath, his voice was filled with emotions, but Harry would be hard-pressed to say _which_ emotions.

"Who?" Harry inched closer, not wanting to miss a single word his dad said.

"He...." the Joker paused, then smirked playfully, "Well, don't tell Harley, but he truly is my soulmate." He stared into the air with a melancholic smile on his face.

"He just needs to... ** _lighten up_** a bit." Joker laughed at his own joke.

"Is he like Mr. Pouts?"

"Oh, Harry... He is exactly like Mr. Pouts!" For some reason the Joker found this very, very funny, and his mad laughter resonated off the kitchen walls, and was soon joined by the tinkling of a childish laughter, spurn on by his father's merriment.

He wasn't sure what they were laughing at, but he was sure it was all very funny!

* * *

"You ready?"

"Yes, dad. I've packed everything I could fit in my bag! But dad...."

"Yes?"

"Why can't I take _all_ of my new toys with me? All I need is a bigger bag. And I got the money to buy it."

"You need to learn to let go of things! You don't wanna be held down by possessions like the living dead is, would you?" he asked, and Harry quickly shook his head.

"Nuh-uh! I wanna be free and spread fun and happiness like you dad!" He beamed.

"That's my boy!" the Joker praised and ruffled his hair. 

"Besides... They never let you keep anything when they send you to Arkham anyway, might as well get used to it," he mentioned off-offhandedly. And then he quickly changed the subject before Harry could ask what Arkham was. 

"Oh, I almost forgot. Here." He handed Harry a brand new passport.

"Is this mine? What does it say?" he tried to turn it around, trying to make out what the letters said, but he wasn't very good at reading yet. His aunt and uncle hated it when he did well in school.

"It says 'Harry Quinzel'. You're really my kid now! ...well... It's Harley's name since I don't **_have_** a surname, but hey! She always wanted a kid. She'll be thrilled!"

Harry smiled nervously. He was looking forward to meeting his new mommy, but he was still worried she might not like him. She sounded awesome tho. Or, well... Funny. And useless. Very, _**very**_ useless. But nice!

He wasn't actually sure _what_ she would be like. His dad never actually spoke about her much. And usually only in regards to his plans for Harry.

But he'd brave that problem when he had too. His dad loved him, and that was really all that mattered. Even if having a mommy too would be nice....

"Now come on, kid. The plain won't wait for anyone! And hijacking a plain just to get back home is just way too much trouble. Especially when working with someone who hasn't even so much as robbed a candy store."

Harry's face fell at the comment, and he felt a desperate need to prove to his dad that he was good enough for him welling up inside him. Which explained his next comment.

"I will tho! Rob a candy store I mean. And a bank! And...and.... and something really big too! And I won't let Batty and Birdbrain stop me or _anything!_ " he stated stubbornly, making his father laugh again.

"That's the spirit kid! Now let's get going!"

* * *

* * *

*Yes, really. I actually bought a pair of purple pinstriped pants in Camden, like, two days ago. lol

*No, no he isn't. But Harry is a kid who's just found a dad that appears to be a riot of fun and let him do whatever he wants. Of COURSE he thinks he's better than the Dursleys.

*I'm using the classic Joker from the comic books as inspiration, and I may or may not be biased towards the version of him in Harleen. (Cuz he's hot as all hell, yet looks like himself.)

*It should be mentioned that Harry IS a child, a rather young one at that. (He is about 6 or so in this fic.) That, paired with his desperate desire for his REAL dad made it so that when the Joker said he 'could be his real dad', Harry took that to mean he IS his real dad. Which is why he's so comfortable and going along with everything.

And it's not like the Joker's gonna correct him. He has his own scheme going, and that belief is hardly gonna hurt. He doesn't expect Harry to ever find out the truth anyway, seeing as he's taking him away to the states and all.

*In the Batman Issue with the Laughing Fish he really DO come out from a bathroom stall. Although I have no way of knowing how long he really was in there, it was long enough he felt the need to remove his hat and trench-coat. He REALLY don't want Batman's identity revealed. And yes, he knows it.

*The Arif family is a crime family operating in London. One of several.

*No, the Joker isn't laughing just out of the blue. But Harry is a kid, and the Joker has yet to explain his philosophy on life. He knows his dad loves laughter and hates people who cry and whine. So he tries his best to live up to his often unrealistic expectation.

And yes. The Joker SUCKS at raising children. Are you REALLY surprised?

A man who drives everyone around him insane without even trying (and thinks insanity is a gift to give to people) is not exactly going to handle trauma well. If he had, he wouldn't be insane to begin with. He can't handle his own trauma, much less that of a child.

*Mr. Smiles is an official Joker ™. I copied the whole story down from Killer Smile and filled in the blanks. (Comics have drawings, something that I had to put into words instead here.)

If anyone is interested in hearing the full story, here's the link to the tumblr page where it is posted:

<https://mr-smiles-funhouse.tumblr.com/post/633653093858476033/mr-smiles-and-the-happy-village>

*A good amount of his speech is direct quotations from what the Joker has actually said himself, paired with an assessment from Batman, plus my general in-depth research and attempt to understand his psyche. (Much of it is from Killer Smile)

 **I think almost 90-95% of that speech was DIRECTLY quoted from the comic books!**

 **Albeit it was a patchwork of several DIFFERENT speeches the Joker made on the subject, a tiny dash of what Batman said, and the last few percentages is my attempt to understand his logic as to WHY he believes humans to be already dead. Which, I admit, may be my own view/Fight Club inspired. (Not that one can tell those apart.)**

Now... While there is NO way to tell when he is lying or not, I look at what he says and compare it with what he DOES. And what he lets slip by accident, and what he repeats.

Combined with my years and years of psychology studies, I like to think I at least come somewhat close to what he believes in.

You know... I seriously considered writing a more light and fun version, based on the Animated Series rather than the comic books. I still might, later. I have a ton of good ideas.

But do you know what I realized?

I realized that there was too damned few fanfics out there in which the Joker was HIMSELF, and not some misunderstood little boy that deep down has a heart of gold, and/or just needed batmans love to stop killing.

Once upon a time he was, but that was a LONG time ago.

He may be in love with Batman (something he even admitted to be, although whether he was joking or not is hard to say for sure, but actions speaks louder than words. And the whole 'you bat family people blocking the light of Batman's sun' thing as well.) But he won't --CAN'T-- change for him.

If he were to change, go to therapy, become 'normal', he'd have to deal with the pain that drove him insane to begin with. Not to mention the additional pain he's inflicted upon himself over the years, and the additional guilt coming with remembering moral values.

And the Joker FLEES from even the possibility of hearing his original NAME mentioned. That tells me that he's never going to get up the courage to face the pain, when even a hint of him sends him running.

People do not go insane for no reason. There is A LOT of pain behind that wide grin and desperate laughter.


	3. Jester Rising

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Pain is at the Heart of Comedy. When I hurt you, I do it to show you the Fun side of life. I want you to Laugh with me."

_**Oh, didn't I mention? My fics is NOT nice. Good guys finish last, and the rest of humanity will just have to hang on for the ride and hope for the best.**_

 _ **This fic is delightfully wicked, dark and sadistic.**_

 _ **If you are sane, and decided to eat while reading this chapter, you made a terrible mistake.**_

 _ **If, however, you are insane, mad as a Hatter sadistic,, and/or generally just enjoy the delightful dark deprived, sadistic violence in all it's gory details, carry on. And Enjoy~**_

 _ **-D.**_

* * *

* * *

"Welcome...to the Ha-Hachienda!" the Joker put his green-strapped purple suitcase down and spread his arms wide, breathing in the dusty air of his old hideout.

"I haven't been here in a looooong time..." he paused to place his hat on a dusty hat-stand. 

"Ah... If these walls could talk~"

An image of Harley tripping over her feet popped into his head. Followed by Harley in a skimpy nightgown interrupting his work. Followed by Harley being followed by Batman. Followed by Harley bitching at him for not breaking her out of Arkham.

He looked around him, and all he could see was the ghost of Harley's mistakes, fuckups, and generally being an annoyance. 

Right next to her was the ghostly memories of useless henchmen --why didn't he ever kill them again? Right, he was just starting up and didn't have many to spare.

Then there was batman bursting in when he was not wanted. Harley bursting in when she was not not wanted. Plant-woman bursting in when she was not wanted... This place had a fucking revolving door policy almost as bad as Arkham!

And, of course...Harley.

"On second thought, the Amusement Mile might be a better choice. Kids love Carousels, right?"

* * *

"Welcome to the Amusement Mile!" the joker said, grinning as he saw Harry's small face light up at the sight of all the rides. Dilapidated or not, it was still an old Fair ground. 

Once the Amusement Mile had been the entertainment center of Gotham. Nowadays it was a Garish, ugly and derelict park filled with old-fashioned rides and various other Fair stands. There even was one or two roller-coasters --a great thrill in itself back in the days it had been build.

But now all the rides were dilapidated to the point of being lethal. And they could easily maim or kill innocent little children riding them. 

Which is why he bought it in the first place. It had been one of the man's main selling points, and boy had he sold it to the right guy!

Not that he survived the sale or got the money, but such was life... 

But in any rate the Park had a wide variety of rides. Nice, dilapidated, rusty, old rides. A health hazard of highest quality!

And not a single queue in sight.

...or human, for that matter. 

He vaguely wondered if Harley had tried to come back to him yet. He'd been out of touch with everyone for nearly a month now, long enough for her to cool down and come back home. She always did. Whether he wanted her to or not.

It was hardly the biggest fight they'd had anyway. Was it? Wait? Was it a fight? Or did she get herself thrown in Arkham and he just didn't notice? He honestly didn't know. Not that it mattered. She'd come crawling back one of these days, and when she did, she'd beg him to forgive her. ...or whatever nonsense she was spouting that week. Not that he ever really listened. Or cared.

The Joker looked over at his newly acquired son and smiled. He had a new project now anyway. And a far more interesting one, with even greater potential than a two-bit psychiatrist he broke years ago. 

They had their fun, but he was ready to move on. Well, that and Batsy of course. He could never forget Batsy. Not even when he tried, come to think of it.*

He couldn't help but laugh as Harry bounced up and down in excitement, just from seeing his new home. Clearly the boy knew to appreciate the finer things in life. Such as a potentially lethal playground filled with garishly decorated toys.

"This. _Is_. **Awesome!!"** Harry turned and hugged his dad, jumping up and down as he did so. Or at least tried to. Impressively enough his short arms reached all the way around the Joker's thin waist, but he couldn't exactly lift him off the ground enough to jump.

The Joker merely laughed and ruffled his hair. It was nice to be around someone who appreciate the things he did for them for once.

People were so unappreciative of him these days. Especially his darling Batsy.

* * *

"So your room is the one to the right, mine's the one to the left, and over there is the toilet. No, there's no kitchen. Oh, and that's the secret escape hatch!" he moved the carpet on the middle of the floor and lifted up what looked like a part of the floor, only to reveal a colorful slide that went somewhere downstairs.

"I suggest you use it whenever you need to go in or out, cuz I'm gonna rig the front door to explode. Just in case."

"Awesome! Can I try it now?!" Harry said excitedly.

"Go ahead kiddo," the Joker said and laughed again. "But don't leave the house without me. There's still some traps out there I haven't disarmed, and it's possible the place have been infested by.... _ **vermins**_... while I was gone."

"I'll stay inside, I promise!" Harry said, before jumping down the shoot, laughing wildly.

 _ **"Oh, and Harry!"**_ he yelled down the shaft, _**"We use the window to get back in!"**_

He heard the sound of someone running around, and then he thought he heard another shout of "Awesome!" floating up from it, and shook his head with a grin on his face as he started to unpack. 

_'Now where should the concentrated tank of primeval chemical concoction for his next batch of Joker Venom I got from england go....? Might wanna keep it in the bedroom, in my safe. Childproofing the house is important when you have a kid. It wouldn't do if he spilled anything important. Or splashed it on himself and died. What a waste!'_

"I wonder if I ever removed the selection of guns from that closet....?"

* * *

"Honey I'm hoooome~" the Joker kicked open the door to the old warehouse he had reclaimed as a place to store all the new toys and books for his son. The second floor of the Fun House just wasn't big enough to fit it all.

His son had needed a place to study, but all the books in the world couldn't help the kid if he didn't know how to read properly. Well, fast at any rate. Or do the math. And the Joker himself was **far** to busy, and too intelligent, to teach the kid something as basic as reading or math.

"And I got a gift for my cute little Jester!" he reached behind him and dragged a green bag with purple polka-dots inside and dropped it on the floor.

The bag let out a muffled scream and squirmed.

"Oooooh! WhatIsItWhatIsITWhatIsIT?!?!?!" Harry bounced excitedly over to the bag and started tugging at the strings holding it shut and pulled it down.

A cute brunette sat --tied up and a bit bruised-- inside it. She was wearing a very cute, yellow dress and a terrified look on her face.

"I got you a teacher!" the Joker grinned proudly. "Now you can get rid of that ridiculously British accent _**and**_ learn your ABC's!"

Harry beamed up at his father, and tried to not think about the fact that the woman might not want to be there. She was just one of the living dead anyway. Her feelings didn't matter...right?

He hugged his daddy tightly. It didn't matter that his dad thought he knew nothing, just because he was 8. He knew his ABC's just fine, thank-you-very-much. But this was still an awesome gift. 

He had never been allowed to do well in school, so he loved how he could finally do well and get praised for it! Just like Dudley always was. That was all that mattered.

"Thank you dad! You're the _**best!"**_

The shell-shocked elementary-school teacher, after realizing who was holding her hostage, promptly passed out.

* * *

"T...that's a...creative...er..." the teacher looked terrified at the thought of telling the Joker's kid he was wrong. 

It was getting irritating. How could he learn if she refused to say when he was wrong?

"Look Miss Elisa. I'm not gonna kill you if you correct me. I want to learn this. I _**need**_ to learn this!" he looked at her with such a desperate intensity that she felt her hear breaking, just a little bit.

And she had come to realize that even if the kid was the Joker's kid... he was still just a kid. A really nice one too, the way he always brought her an apple when he came to lessons. Even if apples were hardly her favorite food. It was still a nice thought. And her kind heart pitied him for having such a terrible, deranged father.

She was an adult, and the insane clown scared the living daylight out of her. What musn't it be like for a small child to be forced to live with him?!

She pulled herself together and smiled gently at him. She might be handcuffed to the pipe and forced to use materials stolen from her own school, but she was still a teacher, damnit. It was her job and her mission to help children, _**all**_ children!

And if she didn't do her job right, who knows what that maniac might do! She doubted he cared about anyone. Not even his own son. She took a deep breath, gathered her courage, and began to teach.

"This is what a cursive E looks like, Jester. And this is an F. Do you see the difference?" she felt her hear break a little more when he lit up, looking just like every other kid in her class did when they finally understood something they hadn't known before.

He was just a child...

* * *

"Dad, I can play on the Merry-go-Round? I know how to start it and I'll remove the fallen over horsie myself and everything!"

"Yeah, yeah. Just get out, daddy's trying to work," Joker waved him off without taking his eyes of his plans. It made Harry fee a bit...left out.

"Daddy I'm gonna take the car and drive it off the docks, okay?"

"Sure, sure."

"Hey dad, I'm gonna drive the car through the police-bar on fifty fourth street!" he tried again.

The Joker sighed and put aside his pen, smiling down to his kid with an eerily calm smile. It was not a nice one.

"Look, kid... I don't care if blow up half of Asia, start world war tree or hang out with the druggies in the park as long as you...." he grabbed Harry by the neck of his tshirt and dragged him towards the door.

 _ **"...get the Hell out of here and leave me the fuck ALONE!!!"**_

He tossed Harry outside and locked the door. Brushing off his hands he went back to work. Kids!

* * *

Harry grumbled as he brushed off his clothes, but he knew better than to disturb his dad when he was in that mood. Last time he'd even hit him!

Harry wiped away the angry tears from his face. He knew his dad needed to work on his plans for Batman, but it was totally unfair how much time it took!

He might live in a theme park, but it wasn't nearly as fun to ride the various rides all alone, and his dad was always busy. Not that he ever really dared to try either. They all looked like they might kill him, and his dad hadn't gotten around to do the repair-work he was always talking about yet.

Sometimes he really wished he could have gotten a friend. Just one! That was all he asked!

He sighed and got up, deciding to talk to the teacher. At least she was nice to him.

He liked Miss Elisa. She was cute and kind and had a gentle sense of humor, now that she had gotten more comfortable around him.

He opened the door to the improvised school-room, and found her sitting in the cushy chair he had gotten for her, reading a book.

"Hello miss Elisa."

"Hello Jester," Her gentle smile dropped when she saw his tears.

"Did he hurt you again?" she asked, looking worried. But Harry just shook his head.

"He just threw me out," Harry sighed. "I don't think he cares about me at all sometimes. It's like I'm not good enough anymore or something. Or maybe he got bored with me," he wiped away the tears that ran down his cheeks with a grumpy look on his face. He didn't like crying, but he couldn't seem to stop.

"Oh, honey..." she was lost for words. She didn't want to lie to the kid, or encourage him to stay in such a horrible environment. But what could she do?

She hated it here, and she missed her own family something fierce... She wished she could run away and take the boy with him. But she was terrified of what the clown might do. And she was still chained to the pipes...

"Do you know where your dad keeps the key for these?" she asked him carefully, tugging at the chain, making it rattle against the pipes it was attached too.

He shook his head and she felt her hope dash.

"But he taught me how to lock-pick and get out of handcuffs!" he looked strangely proud of it. 'What kind of morals is that depraved monster teaching his kid?'

Then he looked over at her bruised wrist and looked up at her tired face.

"It hurts, doesn't it? I'm sorry..." he bit his lip, unsure if it was such a smart thing to do, but...

"If you _**promise**_ you won't try and run, I'll unlock them. Just for a bit! And you **_can't_** tell my dad, like, ever!"

"I promise, your dad never has to know. Come here," she smiled and hugged his tiny frame with her free hand.

The poor kid was clearly brainwashed. She had seen abused children try to protect their parents before, and it always broke her heart. 

She understood her sister better now. She worked in the child-protection service, and she sometimes visited Elisa after a particularly bad case, and Elisa always comforted her. Now she finally understood why her sister needed it...and why she refused to speak a word about it, even to her own sister.

Elisa felt bad about tricking the young boy, but he was still only eight. And she thought that if she did this right, then she might be able to take him with her and run. If only she ran fast enough, and far enough, they'd be safe, both of them. 

She only needed to get to someplace public, and if what the kid had told her about this place was true, then it wouldn't be too far to run to find it. And she was a good runner, her dad always told her so. At almost every thanksgiving charity run they did.

Jester wouldn't want it now of course. He didn't fully understand that there even was a problem, much less what the problem was. But once he was in a good home, he'd be thankful. She was sure of that. This was just not a healthy environment to grow up in.

"Come here," she said, and smiled at him as he reached up to hug her. She lifted him up and secured him on her hip, holding him tight.

"Don't worry, Jester. Everything's going to be okay,"

"What do you mean?" he said, trying to pull back to look at her confused, but she kept her arms firmly locked around him.

She couldn't risk loosing him, and she knew he might fight her. He was just a child. He didn't know any better.

"Miss Elisa! Wait! You can't leave! You promised!"

"Hush, hush. Everything will be fine," she said as she made a run for the park exit. Or what she hoped was the exit, it was hard to tell, but the path behind her clearly only lead to the docs. And she knew that would be a dead end.

"No! Let. _Me._ _**Down!!!"**_ she held onto him, even as he squirmed and tried to kick her. But she had dealt with kids throwing temper tantrums before, and he was locked in a position he couldn't really get any good kicks in. 

It also helped that she was stronger than she looked, doing all the work around the house for her husband to let him focus on his work and his patients.

She winced as the small hands tugged at her hair, and his little fists banged on her back, but she kept going. She had to keep going. She had too!

Suddenly she she felt her world tilt and tip. She fell forward in what seemed like slow motion, her hands unable to free themselves to stop it. Unwilling to let go of her charge, the boy she was to save.

"Noooo!" she screamed, tried to scream. And she twisted her body, or tried to, in an attempt to protect the kid from the hard landing that so surely would follow. 

The dilapidated rides and empty stalls passed by her vision in slow motion. She closed her eyes and braced herself for the impact, berating herself for stumbling. But what could she possibly have stumbled over? She felt as if something had wrapped herself around her legs.

The impact with the ground was hard and painful, and the child wriggled and fought to get free.

"Dad!"

"Well-well-well.... What do we have here? A little birdie out of her cage~" the sing-song voice of madness and nightmares sent chills running down her spine.

That malicious voice and the sound of a child's scream was the last thing she heard before something hit her over the head and her world slowly faded to black.

 _'I failed you, Jester... I'm....s.o.r....'_

* * *

Harry backed up to the wall, his eyes trailing at the crowbar in his father's hand. The wet stains of blood on the crowbar. The eyes --his father's eyes, no, the eyes of The Joker-- it's pupils like microscopic pins of hate, gazing at him. Hard. Acidic. Angry.

Harry gulped, but boldly stared right back. Something inside him refused to back down, no matter what his dad would do to him. And it was his dad! His dad wouldn't hurt him...right?! He felt a desperate chill run down his spine. He didn't think he'd ever seen him that angry before.

It was not as comforting as it should have been when he threw the crowbar aside, letting it fall to the ground. There was a strange gleam in his eyes --his usually emotionless eyes-- and Harry was more terrified of what he saw there than he was of the bloodied crowbar.

"Harry..." the Joker said, his laughing mouth pulled down in a frown. Much as it ever could, but Harry saw it clearly. It ripped and tore at his heart.

'Please don't say it-Please don't say it-Please...'

His small body started to shake. If he said it, it would become real. Horrifyingly real. Unbearably real.

'Please don't say it-Please don't say it-Please...'

"I am **very** disappointed in you, kid," he shook his head sadly, his hand on his heart in a gesture of honesty. His voice calm. Eerily calm. Horrifyingly calm. Disappointed.

"I had such high hoped for you. Such very high hopes. But you turned out to be so...average. Dead. Just like the rest of them." he paused and a malicious tone snuck into his voice.

"Did you **_really_** think someone like you would be worth _**my**_ precious time, kid? Someone who can't even see humans for what they _**really**_ are? Someone who doesn't even know the most basic of chemistry and math. Someone... who let their bleeding heart allow a hostage to run away?! Did you even _**try?!"**_

He sounded furious as well as disappointed and Harry felt his little heart break. He chocked back a sob. His called him 'kid', not 'son'. His father... his loving, wonderful father was disappointed in him. He had disappointed him, not been good enough, not tried hard enough! Maybe his dad didn't even want him anymore!

All his fear had left him, and it was all he could do to stop the tears from running down his face.

 _He had tried **so** hard! He wanted to make his dad proud! He wanted him to love him! He wanted... He wanted..._

But he had always been terrified that his father would someday drop him. Tell him he was useless to him. Send him back to the Dursley's or someone else who didn't care about him. Or, worse than all those... be disappointed in him! He couldn't stand the thought!

"I'm sorry dad. I didn't mean to..." Harry hugged his arms around himself, and a single tear slipped down his face. He looked away, hoping his dad didn't see it. He knew how his father hated weakness. But he couldn't stop it. 

_'Sorry I was not a better son. Sorry I let her run free. Sorry I didn't listen to you. Sorry I wasn't good enough.'_

The words did not pass his lips, but his father always had an uncanny knack for knowing exactly what he was thinking at any given time. But how did you apologize to a man who hated apologies? 

_'Another failure, I forgot how much he hates excuses,'_ he thought, unable to stop a chocked sob from breaking free from his lips.

Suddenly Harry felt a pair of strong arms wrap around him, pulling him close. 

He only froze for a second before he leaned into the warm embrace of his father and sobbed his heart out, unable to hold back his weakness in the safe comfort of his father's embrace.

"Shhh... It's okay, son. I'm terribly disappointed in you, but I know how you can make it up to me."

"Y..you do?" Harry hiccuped thought his tears as yet another sob forced it's way up his throat. His heart felt like it was ripped through a shredder all over again. But this time, it was tinged with a small hint of hope. Redemption.

"Please...." he choked out. "I'll do _anything!"_

"Oh, Jester... You have _**no**_ idea how happy it makes me to hear you say that! Maybe you _are_ good for something after all."

He could hear the devious smile in his father's voice, but he did not care. All that mattered was his father's approval. All that mattered was that his daddy, his amazing, wonderful daddy giving him a chance to regain his love!

* * *

"Tighter! That's it! You're getting the hang of this," the Joker directed his son as he tied up the Elisa, and checked his work after it was done, making sure everything was nice and tight. Safe and secure.

Well... Secure. There was nothing safe about what would happen next.

"I've been practicing!" Harry gave a tentatively proud smile, feeling the warm glow of his dad's approval. It was the best feeling ever!

"Good boy!" Joker ruffled his hair, and Harry beamed at the affectionate gesture. Maybe his dad did love him, or would love him...once he redeemed himself.

"She'll walk up any minute now. Now, listen..." he knelt down and placed his hand on his son's shoulder, giving it a encouraging squeeze.

"We can't let her go free, you know that, right? But we also can't have her teaching you anymore."

"Yes..." Harry had a bad feeling about where this was going, but this was the only way to make his daddy love him again. And he desperately wanted to regain that love!

"Now, seeing as this is all _**your**_ fault, **_you_** need to fix the problem. You understand that, right?"

"Yes..." Harry swallowed the lump rising in his throat. He knew... _knew_ how his dad 'fixed' problems like her. He wasn't sure if he was comfortable with it. In fact, he was very UNcomfortable with it. But it was the only way to win back his dad's love...

"Good. You know what to do," he said and handed Harry the crowbar that still was stained with her blood. Harry accepted it with the reverence of a holy man accepting the holy Host, clutching it in both hands. It felt heavy, but not as heavy as his heart.

He weighted the crowbar in his hands and looked over at Miss Elisa --his first friend ever--, then he looked down to the crowbar in his hands. The blood stain were still fresh and shone a dark warning up at him.

Biting back tears he slowly walked over to her. His feet felt each heavy step as if he had just walked a mile.

Elisa had laid very still, tied up on the floor and unconscious as she had been. But now she had finally come out of her pained daze, and she was looking at him with fear and terror in her eyes. And even more painfully; Hope. Trust.

 _"I'm sorry,"_ he whispered, low enough that his dad couldn't hear him, before he moved his hand to wipe away a tear that had escaped him, even as he tried to suppress it.

He raised the crowbar and watched as her eyes went wide like a deer caught in the headlights.

He brought it down. A halfway aborted motion that non the less made her scream out in pain behind the red ball and cloth gag. 

There was a sickening sound, much worse than the screams. It was soft, yielding. Like hitting a living pillow of meat. It felt disgusting. Wrong.

"Come on, kid! You can do better!"

 _'You knew you couldn't trust her. Remember the teachers at your old school? Remember your aunt and uncle? Remember how the whole neighborhood treated you? She's just like them! Come on, Harry, you can do this. You can do this.'_

His little pep-talk had the desired effect. He just had to pretend she was his aunt. His uncle. Everyone who saw how they treated him and never lifted a finger. He saw them all now. The living dead. The hateful human race.

Hate.

 _'I-hate-you-I-hate-you-I-hate-you-I-hate-you-I-hate-you-I-hate-you'_

He still felt sick, but even so he rose the crowbar again, closed his eyes and slammed it down as hard as he could. 

He felt the crowbar hit it's target. Somewhere on his target. An arm. Or a leg. Something moving and tied up.

This time there was a crack. He chocked back a sob, or was it vomit? The sound was nauseating. The echo of the impact traveled up the crowbar and would have hurt his hand, but he let the crowbar bounce off her body instead. It was awful how easy it was to make bones crack, but not as awful as the sound it made.

He hit her again, closing his eyes so he didn't have to see what he was doing, so he could pretend it wasn't happening, but he couldn't close his ears. He couldn't stop himself from feeling it as the crowbar finally broke the skin and he felt the fresh, warm blood spattering his bare face and hands. Soaking through his clothes. 

He hit her.

Again and again and again.

Then the smell hit his nose, and it was almost worse than the sounds. Almost.

Elisa's screams broke trough the improvised gag and it made Harry wish he could close his ears. He just wanted to end it! He wanted this nightmare to be over and for his daddy to love him. He wanted for this to be a bad dream, and when he woke up, his dad would be there with his pills and whiskey and bedtime story.

 _'Go-away-Go-away-Go-away-Go-away'_

"That's it boy! You're doing great!" his father's voice sounded hollow, distant, but it still filled him with a sense of warm pride that collided and warped the nauseous horror he felt at his own actions.

 _ **"Die! Die! Die!"**_ He shouted through the tears as he kept bashing the crowbar down on her frail, broken body. His haphazard aim caused by his closed eyes prolonged the process, and thus her pain, far more than it otherwise would have, but he could not look!

His father's laughter echoed in the background as he bashed and bashed and bashed her already broken body. She had long since stopped moving, but he didn't stop. He couldn't stop. Not until he was sure.

If he stopped now, he knew he couldn't do it again, so he kept going. Bashing. Hurting. Splattering.

He suddenly realized that the laughter had stopped, only to be replaced with applause.

"Well done, son!" his father's word sounded like tolling bells announcing the days work over.

The pride in his father's voice filled his heart and made him feel... feel...

His emotions warred with each-other as the crowbar slipped from his limp hands.

 _ **CLANK**_

The sound echoed in the sudden silence, and Harry opened his eyes, taking in the full, hideous, _glorious_ , messy, horrible, _beautiful,_ gruesome work he had done for the first time.

He took a step back. And another step. And another. Backing up all the way back to the cold metallic wall behind him.

He slid down the wall, shaking silently as his blood-stained hands covered his tear-stained face.

A broken sound slipped from his lips, almost a sob but not quite. 

The sound started low... almost a chuckle, almost a chocked sob...and grew and grew in strength and intensity until it echoed off the walls and rung through the room like laughing funeral bells. 

"Ah-ha-ha-HA-Ha-HA-ha-Ha-HAH-HaHaHaHAHaHAHaHAHAhaHAHAHAhaHAHAAAH!!!!

And then suddenly, he heard it!

The sound of something breaking, fracturing, shattering like glass.

He could almost see the shimmering shards cascading around him. 

_Hear_ the shattered pieces fall like little tiny sparking stars, filled with fairy-dust and frozen tears. Falling like diamonds.

And it was all so funny!

It was all so damned funny!

And he couldn't stop laughing. 

And he didn't want too.

And time stood still and the only thing that existed was him and the broken fragments of his mind. 

The shivering, shimmering, shining, shapeless shards of a shredded soul.

Him and the laughter. 

Him and amusement. 

The funniest joke of them all.

And he felt.. Calm. Serene. Tranquil.

He leaned his head back against the wall and smiled, just enjoying the silence in his mind.

Enjoying the strange sensation in his head. 

The things he could see-not see.

He felt... spent. Like the calm after the storm had blown past.

It felt... Nice. 

What had happened? He knew it- _not knew it._

He knew what he had done, but it was foggy, clouded over.

He felt calm. Serene. Tranquil.

He felt tired. So very tired.

Calm. Tired. Serene. Tranquil.

And then he felt his father's loving arms wrap around him, picking him up.

"You did good, kid. You did good."

His father's lips on his blood stained forehead. 

His father's arms wrapped comfortably around his small frame.

His father's ever present scent that smelled vaugely of some kind of chemicals.

And the young boy fell asleep, wrapped in his father's arms.

Baptized in blood. 

Reborn in tears and anguish.

Suffering and Pain.

* * *

 _'Now, now Bats. I can't take a vacation right now, it would he highly irresponsible. Even for me!'_

The Joker's last laughing words before he released that smoke bomb and vanished from sight was still ringing in his ears. Even his infra-red detectors had been rendered useless by the clown in some way he had yet to figure out. 

_There was something about what he said... Something that he just couldn't put his finger on...._

And there was the fact that it wasn't the first time this had happened. It had, in fact, started to become a repeat occurrence.

"I don't like this Alfred. That's the fourth time he's slipped away from me in just as many months. And then suddenly... NOTHING!" he paused to run a bruised, manicured hand through his hair.

"I feel like I'm loosing my touch. Or...." a horrible thought suddenly hit him.

"Or what sir?"

"...or maybe he's never reallytried to get away before." he blinked, suddenly remembering something he told himself a long time ago.

 _'I always forget how fast he is'._

He was, wasn't he. The clown always did have the build of a runner. And he was light-footed, quick, agile and almost as strong as he was himself. There was slim, lean muscles hidden under that fancy suit of his that he had only rarely caught a glimpse of in Arkham.

Why did he always forget that? Such an important, noticeable fact? How could he miss the fact that the clown would outrun him every single time he tried? Unless.... Unless the Joker _didn't_ try! Unless the Joker _let_ Batman catch him! 

And wasn't that a depressing thought.

"Was he always this slippery? He never tried this hard before, did he? What changed? _Why now?!_ **_And what was that damned comment about him being irresponsible about?!!"_** he bashed his hands down on the desk in front of the supercomputer he had been working on and stormed off to pace.

But Alfred could only shake his head. He had even less insight in the madman's thought-pattern than his Master Bruce had. He had told him everything he knew already.

"I take it you want dinner served here today then, Master Bruce," the butler said dryly, hoping to change the subject to something more pleasant. Something to take his almost-son's mind off things. Make him feel better, at least for a while. Not that he expected it to work.

"Yes, yes, yes. Just like yesterday and the day before that, and the day before that. I will figure out what he's up to!" not once did he stop his pacing, or moved his hand from his thoughtful pose on his chin.

Alfred shook his head sadly and walked up to prepare his master's dinner. Even when the Joker did absolutely nothing, Bruce was obsessed with finding him, to the point he neglected all else. Even his own well-being.

He suppose it was a small favor that he at least remembered to eat and drink when Alfred reminded him of it.

He understood Bruce all to well, of course. Nobody wanted to see more innocent people hurt, and the Joker was the worst of the Villains to plague Gotham. And by far the one that could, and would, cause the most damage.

But this level obsession just was not healthy.

* * *

 _ **"PUDDIN'~!"**_

The screeching voice of a harpie voice echoed throughout the hideout and made all the inhabitants wince. Even the Hyenas. Although they were the quickest to recover and run to meet said harpie.

"Babies! Mommy's hooome~" she cuddled the hyenas before running off to find her beloved Mr. Jay. She found him sitting in the living-room, poking at his ear to get the lingering ringing noise out of it.

"Oh, Puddin'! I knew you'd break me out of Arkham!" she flung her arms around the Joker, hugging him close.

"Uh, yes, of...course...You were in Arkham? No, yes, of _course_ I knew that! I totally did the...uh...saving thing!" he turned to whisper in Harry's ear.

 _"Quick! Ask her what the hell she's on about!"_

"Who's that, Puddin'?" Harley said as she suddenly noticed a small child standing there, looking up at her with curious green eyes. 

The Joker quickly adapted a put out look, and prayed to whatever uncaring patron clown up there that the kid would take the hint and follow his lead. It was easier than explaining the how's and the why's. Especially to Harley.

"Harley.... I can't _**believe**_ you forgot your _own child!"_ the Joker said in mock horror, and Harry had to contain a snicker.

"I... have a child...?" Harley shook her head. She remembered bearing a child...once. She left it with her sister...or she thought she did. Didn't she? Wasn't it a girl? She had been so sure, but if Mr. Jay told her this... *

"It's Harry! Our own little Jester! You remember Harry, don't you pumpkin? He has my eyes and your....name." he finished, coming up short as he tried to come up with some kind of similarity between them.

"I look like mommy too, right dad?" Harry said, and the Joker was quick to nod. A series of very, very quick nods. 

It _**was**_ a bit of a stretch, but Harley's face was rounder than the Joker's, and there was some vague resemblance there, if you looked for it. Hard. And squinted. The squinting was important.

Harley's mind was spinning at a mile an hour. You could almost see the birds fluttering around her confused little head. 

Was it her child? Had they raised him together? What was his name? How old was he? Had they even been dating long enough to have a child that old? How could she have forgotten about **_that?!_**

It was dream-logic, wasn't it? Or the shock therapy? Or the pills? Did those mean people at Arkham make her forget her own child?! She clutched her head and shook it, willing herself to remember that she had a son. Trying way, _**way**_ to hard to fill in the gaps where he should have been.

And like anyone who tries hard to remember something that never actually happened... she succeeded. At least somewhat.

She remembered being pregnant. She remembered the pain as she laid in labor, struggling to give birth. It was the most painful thing she had ever done, and that was saying something considering the fact that she lived with the Joker.

She... was there first steps? There must have been. yes, if she thought very, very hard, she could remember it. There was a kid at a birthday...wasn't that him? Harry. The name was familiar, wasn't it? Of course it was. It had to be!

"I..." her mouth open and closed a few times, before she hugged Harry close.

"I'm sorry baby! Moma gets confused sometimes. I'll always love ya baby, don'tcha ever forget! Not even if the mean people at Arkham makes me forget you! Mommy loves you, yes she does! Yes she does!" Harley said as she rushed over to squeeze Harry into a bone-breaking hug, rubbing her chin against his little tummy like a cat, making both the Joker and Harry break into laughter fits. 

Harry's laughter sounded a whole lot more pained than the Joker's, however. But that could be the bone-crushing hug that followed the face-rubbing.

"Ya have your daddy's laughter!" she said, pulling back to study him with a smile on her face, memorizing every tiny detail of it. She gently flicked a errant stand of hair from his forehead and pinched his cheeks painfully.

"Ya need to eat more. I'll make ya some real food now that I'm back. Don'tcha worry. Mommy's gonna show you just how much she loves her lil' Jester! With cookies! And...um....buying you the best sandwiches ever!"

There was so much love in her eyes that Harry couldn't find it in himself to tell her it was just a joke. And she **_was_** his mommy after all! It wasn't **_all_** a lie. And she seemed happy. Why make her unhappy by telling her the truth?

"I love you too mom," Harry said and hugged her again.

* * *

 _"Hush little Jester, don't say a word~_

 _Joker's gonna get you a baby bat bird~_

 _And if that Robin just won't sing~_

 _Joker's gonna pull out a grenade pin ring~"_

The Joker grinned widely as he sang to his son, pulling the clown-blanket up over him, which in turn made Harry giggle. His dad was the funniest person in the whole wide world!

"Will you read me a story, daddy?"

"Alright. But just one. I have lots of planning to do, and I just know your mother is going to be obnoxious if I don't give her any attention this soon after she got back home," he sighed and smiled.

He had always loved molding people's minds, making them see his side of things, but there was something even better with molding a child. And, he had to admit, not exactly unpleasant to see his little face light up like it did right now.

"Okay. So this is the story about a man who loves to laugh and how he, in a bout of temporarily insanity --more than he was before anyho'-- fell for a crazy psycho stalker woman that just wouldn't stop pestering him!" 

"Does it have a happy ending?" Harry asked curiously.

"No."

Harry leaned back against the pillow and sighed. So much the same as always then. Well, some of his stories ended happy. Mr. Smiley always escaped from the bad Magic Tower the evil Mr. Pouts kept locking him up in. But he had a feeling this one was about his daddy, and those rarely had a happy ending... 

He had to work harder to be the bestest son ever and cheer him up! So he listened to daddy's story, even if it didn't have a happy ending. It made his daddy happy to tell them to someone who listened.

"Once upon a time in Arkham..."

Harley watched them from the door-frame and smiled. All she had ever wanted was a nice family with Mr. Jay, and this time it seemed like her dream really had come true.

Well... She wasn't sure if his version of how they met were very were the...nicest. But that was just Mr. Jay. He didn't like to show weakness, so of course he wasn't gonna admit how much he loved her.

She closed the door with a smile on her face and silently snuck up into his bedroom. She was _sure_ he had missed her enough to let her in today! 

Even if she had to use a lock-pick so she could surprise him.

* * *

"Ready son?"

"Almost!" Harry emerged from his room in a green T-Shirt that said "Honk if you love dolphins"* and purple pinstriped pants. In his hands were a bright purple wide-brimmed hat with a green band around the middle reminiscence of something only a very gay mafioso would wear.

"What do you think dad? Hat?" he put the hat on, "Or no hat?"

"Hrm... Well, you look very stylish in a hat, it would just blow away on the first carousel ride, which would make the whole thing rather pointless, don't you think?"

"I guess..." he said and looked sad at the hat, before sighing and tossing it on the chest on the floor.

"Aw, what the heck! What's life without risk?!" he said and grabbed his own hat and put it on. Harry cheered and put his hat back on his own head.

"Alright! Who's ready for some thrilling rides, too much candy, and overpriced junk food?!"

"Me! Me! Me!" Harry cheered.

"Me too!" Harley piped up from behind her mountain of shopping-bags. "What're we doing?! Can I come?!"

 _ **"No!"**_ Two voices simultaneously chimed out.

"It's Father-Son bonding time, Harley. You where the one to suggest it to begin with, and the book said absolutely no women!"

"Ya right of course Mr. Jay. I'm sorry..." she looked so sad. Even her twin-tailed hair drooped down to each side of her head. It had no effect on the two boys. 

Well, Harry felt a bit bad, but he stood by his decision. It was the first time in a long while his daddy had time to do anything with him, and he didn't want her to ruin it! Mommy always ruined everything because she made his daddy mad.

The Joker took a less sentimental approach.

"Be a good girl and clean up the place. It's like a pig-sty in here. And feed the damned hyenas!" Joker snapped.

"Yes Mistah Jay! Leave it to me! I'll make it shine, you'll see!" Harley said in a peppy voice and rolled up her sleeves, looking positively thrilled at being able to do something for him.

 _"She likes to feel needed. That's why I never clean up, even when she's gone. She always comes back anyway, so why bother?"_ the Joker whispered in Harry's ear. 

And Harry saw how happy his mom was with cleaning, so he decided he'd do the same. It was the right thing to do. Although he halfway thought most of why his dad did it was because he just couldn't be bothered to do it himself. But it was still nice of him to think of mom.

"You coming or what?!" 

The Joker opened the hatch to the secret slide to the main floor. They both laughed and held on to their hats as they slid down it and emerged in the Fun House part of their little nest.

"Hrm... Might wanna convert one of the storehouses on the docks to a real house for us, what do you think? Tree's a crowd and all. At least with Harley."

"Sure," Harry looked away from the funny mirror and shrugged. He didn't much care one way or the other. He had a room of his own, and a nice bed. It was all that he needed, really.

"C'm on kid. We have dangerously dilapidated rides to test out, and havoc to wreak on the innocent idiots of this town!"

Harry hurried after his dad.

"What should we try first?!" Harry bounced with excitement.

"Hrm... What about... ** _that_** ," he pointed at the nearby Marry-go-round.

"Awesome! We just need to move the horsie that's fallen off, and it looks fine!"

"Way ahead of you kid," the Joker said as he grabbed the wooden horse and dragged it off the ride and tossed it aside.

"You go grab a horse and I'll start this baby up!"

"I like this one!" Harry said, jumping onto a wooden horse that might once have been painted a garishly green hue. That...or it was discolored from years of disuse and exposure to a polluted environment.

The Joker went inside the central cone of the ride and blew the dust off the control panel, before inserting the key to it. It was a good thing he had actually bought the park instead of just staying indefinitely without a lease as he usually did, otherwise this would have taken more work.

Well... he killed the owner after he signed the contract as payment. Toma-to, Tomay-to.

Then he rushed back to join his son, taking the horse closest to him. A pink monstrosity that had lost a hind leg and it's left eye to old age. It did however appear to work just fine and could easily hold the weight of his tall, skinny frame.

"Remember; hang on to you hat~!" he said in a sing-song voice. And the Merry-go-Round slowly started to turn, the wheels and cogs of the machinery creaking and scraping with every move.

"HaHaHaHaHa~" Harry laughed as the ride creaked around, jerking and twitching. Starting slow but picking up speed as it wore down the years of rust in the machinery.

The Joker pulled out a small mp3 player with creepy carnival music that he had downloaded just for this occasion, and hit the play button.

"This is awesome, dad!" Harry held on to his hat as the ride moved fast enough to pick up a slight breeze.

The Joker looked over at his son. It put a smile on his face to see someone truly appreciate the classics. Like potentially lethal carnival rides and creepy carnival music to go with it.

Just then the ride lurched and Harry's ride started spinning around sideways. It appeared that the cone that held the ride in place --while still stuck in it's holes-- had come loose and sent the kid riding, not just up and down, but in a spinning motion too.

"Aaaaahaaaaa---HaHaHaHA!" 

It put a smile on his face. It _**truly**_ did.

* * *

"Alright, son. Are you ready? When I pull this lever, I have exactly five seconds to catch up and jump in the cart with you before it starts to climb, so make sure you pick a good cart!" the Joker grinned at his son's exited seriousness as he kicked the different carts to make sure they got a good one.

His foot had gone right through the first one of them, so they'd discarded that off the tracks together. They were heavy, but they had wheels, which helped.

The next one had the wheels almost falling off. It had to go as well. There was a fine line between risk and stupidity.

"This one looks solid! And the wheels looks better than all the others."

"Then get in and let's get this party started!" He waited for his son to get seated, then pulled the lever and quickly bounced across the short platform before jumping in.

"Alright. Now we just pull down the safetybar aaaand... Uh-oh."

"Dad...? What's wrong?"

"Looks like the locking mechanism isn't working. Well, no worries. It's an old-fashioned mine-train roller coaster, and this cart has high enough walls that we won't fall out. Just cling to the safety-bar like your life depends on it and we'll be fine!" Joker clutched his hat and laughed maniacally as Harry's small hands clutched the bar until his hands turned white. The bar bounced

"On second thought, cling to the sides!"

Far behind them Harry's hat fluttered in the breeze behind them as they zoomed and swished around the ups and down and twist and turns of the tracks. Harry clutching the bars with both hands, and the Joker holding the side of the cart with one hand, and held his hat in place on his head with the other.

Just as Harry was starting to relax, they reached the top of the climb and the cart started rushing down for the second big woop. It made Harry scream and laugh with joy, his hat long since forgotten.

The Joker still clung to his own hat, as well as the cart, but he was laughing joyfully at every new twist and turn and bump that threatened to throw them off the rail and fall to their death far below.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahahahahahahaha!!!!"

"Ah-Ha-Ha-HAHA-HA-HAHAHAHHA!!!!

"Daaaaaaddddyyyy...:" Harry stared at the trails ahead of them, his voice shaking as the clacking of the rails shook and snagged, their speed picking up even more after the last twists and turns. Their cart on a downhill trajectory, right before an upswing.

"Hang on son! We're going FLYIN'! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!"

"DAAAADDYYYYYY!!!!"

The trail seemed to have suffered an unfortunate break right before the next turn. That meant that there was no way in HELL this cart was staying on it's rails, and their best bet was to hope the wagon cleared the harbor and landed in the bay. 

Good thing it wasn't a break in the other direction, or they'd land on asphalt. Water was so much safer. Well.... Maybe not.

"WE'RE GONNA DIIIIIIIIEEEEEEE! HAHAHAHAHA!!!"

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHA!!!!!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!"

The little mine cart went flying off the trail at an amazing speed, and it did indeed clear the docks. By quite a good margin too. Which was good as there was still one or two old, broken trams strapped to it.

"JUMP!" Joker called out, doing exactly that, just in time to land in the water and not on the hard cart when IT landed in the sea.

Harry jumped the second he heart his dad's call, and it was just in the nick of time. He collided with the water-surface in a way that was neither plesant, nor pain-free.

"Surface-tension _**sucks!"**_ Harry shouted at his dad.

"Look who paid attention in Chemistry Class! I'm so proud of you, son!" the Joker laughed as he made his way over to his son who was currently treading water in a fight he was quickly loosing.

"I see we need to add swimming lessons to the curriculum. Isn't it amazing how much we've discovered already!"

"Yay...blurbblurb," the sarcasm came through, even if his voice did not.

Harry lost the fight with the waves, but thankfully his dad managed to reach him and pull his head over the water before he also ran out of air.

Hauling them both up on the docks, Harry coughed up water and leaned into his father's embrace as they both laughed and discussed what needed to be fixed for the rides to be, if not safe, then at least rideable.

"Alright, kid. I think that's enough rides for today. Whaddaja say? Should we grab some dry clothes and go pain the town red?!"

"Can I get popcorn? And cotton candy?!" Harry looked up at him with the most adorable puppy-dog eyes the Joker had ever seen. He laughed and ruffled the kid's wet hair.

"Sure thing kiddo."

* * *

"Got your game face on?!"

"Yepp!" Harry pointed at his face, painted to imitate his dad with a childish, untrained hand.

"Got your Fun Gun?!"

"Locked and Loaded!" Harry grinned and pulled up a green toy-gun shell painted with purple polkadots that was cleverly mounted around a real guy, then hooked it onto his belt, making sure the safety was ON. Safety first and all. Dead goons were useless goons according to his dad, and he assumed the same applied to him.

"Then let's get rolling!" his dad flung open the door to the car he'd been working on and peeled off the panel to hot-wire it.

"I love old cars! They're so easy to steal! AhHaHAHaHaHAHAHAHA!!!" he hit the gas and had them rushing down the streets of Gotham in no time. 

"Seatbelt, kid! I've lost too many idiots because they forgot!"

"Yes sir!" Harry said and fumbled to get the seatbelt strapped across him as best he could. He was really looking forward to growing a bit taller so it would fit him better.

"There's a nice, big candy-store around Lenox and 5th. Might have some cotton candy in there and definatly popcorn. Wanna hit that one first, or should we get food? You hungry?"

"Mmh..." Harry thought about it, "Burger!"

"Burger it is! Let's go see the King of the Burgers about some burgers and fries then!" the Joker stepped on it, and before they knew it they were at the drive-through to Mc Donnald.

"THIS is the King of Burgers?"

"What? You didn't think I meant Burger King did you? Their burgers tastes almost _**real!"**_ he said with a disgusted grimace on his face.

"I want my chemical junk-food to taste chemically thank-you-very-much," he said with an upturned nose, making Harry laugh.

"Welcome-to-Mac-Donald-may-I-take-your-order" the emotionless voice of someone who had worked there long enough to regret every life choice they ever made said over the speakers.

"Hello my good man! I'd like ten cheeseburgers, two coca cola, five big fries, two milkshakes --chocolate..." the Joker prattled on and Harry tuned out to check his brand new iphone. It came with their new car. He was sure he almost had figured out the combination to open it, and it was only a matter of time before he got the pattern right.

"Please-drive-up-to-the-window-sir."

"Here you go sir," a greasy-faced teenager delivered their order in a large paper-bag that the Joker handed on to Harry, before taking a sip of his soda.

And quickly spit it out.

"What the **_fuck?!"_**

 _ **"I ordered coke, not pepsi!"**_ he threw cups out the window and pulled the gun to shoot the idiot. Right in his stupid face.

 _ **"Now someone fucking get me my coke!"**_ he pointed the gun at the gun-chewing fat lady who seemed to have forgotten how to chew after what happened to the kid, and she scrambled to fill his order.

Harry stared at his dad in wide-eyed shock. He'd just...killed him. Just like that!

"H-here you g-g sir, t-two extra large c-cokes on the house. We're r-really s-sorry s-sir,"

He pointed the gun at her and she scrunched her eyes close, sure she was gonna get killed, as he suspiciously took a sip.

"Now _**that's**_ what I'm talking about!" he grinned and handed the other coke over to Harry and drove off.

Harry was still looking at his dad with vary eyes as he sipped his coke, something the Joker was quick to notice.

"Oh, please! He was dead already. I just put him out of his misery. Didn't you hear his voice on the speaker?" the Joker rummaged through the warm paper bag.

"And I can't _**believe**_ he forgot my fries! I should go back kill him all over again!" he slammed his hands against the steering wheel in anger, but Harry was pretty used to his outbursts by now. He never hurt him. Not badly anyway. And it was always his own fault.

In the distance they could clearly hear that somebody had called the cops.

"Wopsie. Looks like someone called uncle blue! Better get out of here and ditch this hunk of junk and get a new one then!" the Joker laughed.

"Hang on to the goods boy! I know a place we can eat it in peace and ditch the car!"

"Roger that!" Harry said and focused on not letting anything spill while his dad did some very dodgy driving.

* * *

"Wow! You can see for miles from here!" Harry said, leaning over the railing of one of the many rooftops parks in Chinatown.*

"Thought you'd like it! Now come eat your junk food before it gets cold and turns into _real_ junk," the Joker picked the pickle off his burger and threw it off the rooftop. Seriously... Who actually ate those? His taste-buds were fried to the point he could barely taste anything unless it was extremely salty or, for some reason, coke, and he still couldn't stand pickles on his burger!

"Did you get my Happy Meal?"

"I go _two!"_ he grinned and held it out, "But if you get Batman, I want it!"

"I'll trade you for bird-boy~" Harry snickered. His dad's obsession with the Batman was so cute. 

He'd never seen it, but he was convinced that his dad kept a small collection of Batman paraphernalia somewhere in the house....most likely hidden in his bedroom. Harry was not allowed in there, no one was.

"Isn't the bird a bit of a collector item now? I haven't seen him getting a new one since I killed the last one."*

They enjoyed the view and the nice breeze as it drifted in from the sea, and ate their fill of the chemical compound that Mac Donald called 'burgers'. Although Harry was sure there would be plenty of leftovers. Maybe they should take some back to mom.

He wondered why his dad ordered more food than they could possibly eat, but then again, he never seemed to pay for anything. Like, ever.

The thought made Harry giggle.

"What's so funny?"

"You never pay for anything, do you?"

"Paying is for suckers. Or the underworld. Or if you're in disguise. Remember that."

Harry quickly nodded, while vaguely wondering what the 'underworld' that his dad sometime mentioned was. He'd heard it mentioned on the news too, but they never specified what it was.

His dad seemed to think it was a useful thing, the news made it sound like a bad thing. Harry wasn't sure what to think.

"Alright kid. All done?" he looked over and saw his son nod and brush off his hands.

"Time for desert!" he grabbed Harry and threw himself off the building, laughing his head off at Harry's terrified cries.

Harry clinged to his dad and wondered if he had finally compactly lost it when he felt himself falling, falling, falling. Down. Down. Down. 

And then the fall came to a bouncy stop, before they finally went still-- and slammed into the building behind them not-too-nicely. 

Harry very carefully opened his eyes to see what had happened. He hoped it wasn't the Batman that had caught them, like in his dad's stories. He saved his dad a lot, but he also locked him up in the Bad Place. Arkham. 

His mom said it was bad, his dad said it was a holiday resort. He was liable to believe his mother on this, from what he had heard they did to the people there.

He carefully looked up.

A rope! His dad had somehow tied a bungee-cord of some kind around himself, without Harry noticing, and jumped off. Harry couldn't help but laugh in relief.

"You asshole!" Harry laughed, but he was still feeling upset and angry, so he punched the Joker with his little fists as hard as he could.

"Oh, no! I'm being attacked by a vicious puppy-dog! Whatever shall I do?" the Joker chuckled at Harry's puny attempts to harm him.

"I'll... I'll...." Harry was so mad at his dad right then, and he wanted to just...hurt him! But it was funny too. His hand went into his pocket. The smile on his face was positively mischievous.

"This puppy has teeth!" Harry said, and pushed the pointy ends of his taser at his dad's chest and pushed the button.

The Joker, dangling a few meters off the ground, convulsed with the electricity and kept on laughing.

"Alright, Alright! I give!" he laughed again. His kid was more vicious that he had thought. He felt a sense of pride fill him as the kid kept shocking him for a few more seconds before he let up.

The over-amped taser was created to hurt, but it got nothing on Arkhams brand of electroshock therapy. And with his fried nerve-endings and slightly masochistic nature, all it did was make him laugh harder.

 _ **"Don't**_ do it again!" Harry told him sternly. The Joker decided to play along.

"I won't! Promise! Cross my heart and hope to die!" he lied, his wide grin stretching from ear to ear.

Oh, yes... The kid was coming along _**just**_ fine!

"Now how about that candy shop? I'll even let you do the talking!" 

It wasn't an apology, but it was as close as his dad would ever get to one, and Harry knew it.

He was also super-exited to get a chance to use some of those hold-up speeches his dad had made him practiced at home.

"Oh, and kid... Leave your name at home, eh? Nobody respects a villain named 'Harry'."

"What should I call myself then?"

"Why... You're my little Jester, aren't you?" he ruffled his sons hair before rappeling them both down to the ground. 

"Just go by that!"

"Jester... I like it!"*

* * *

"HaHaHAHaHaHAHAH!!! Ow-Ow-Ow." Harry threw the wrapped candy in the air and let it rain down on him while the Joker laughed his ass off and snapped a picture with his recently acquired smart phone.

The employee's of the store didn't have a panic button --this was no bank-- but they dearly wished they had!

"Alright kid. Enough fun for now! Throw what you want into a garbage bag and let's get going before someone calls the cops." He peeked out the window of the store.

"Wops, too late!" he laughed again.

"I TOTALLY see why you do this now, dad! It's so much FUN!" Harry laughed as he rushed to pick up his favorite candy, making sure there was some cotton candy he could eat too. 

He'd wanted to try it ever since Dudley had gotten some when they went to that circus that passed by their quiet town, but he could never snatch even a tiny bit of the discarded cone. His aunt had been watching him like a hawk to make sure he didn't cause any 'embarrassment' in public.

Living with his new dad wasn't perfect, and he got hurt-- a lot-- but it was still miles and miles better than his old life. He'd never felt so alive!

Just as they stepped outside, a single police-car slid up in front of the store. Apparently nobody took the people who had called in the robbery very serious. Although even Harry had to admit that "Help, someone is robbing the candy-store" sounded like a bad prank.

"Freeze!" the police-man stepped out of the car just as his partner got up. 

They had barely stepped foot outside the car before the Joker's gun went off, and the other cop scrambled to call for backup.

"Quick, kid! Shoot him before he can shoot you!" the Joker said when he saw his son hesitate.

The cops looked like a newly trained recruit --probably why he was sent to check out a likely prank call-- and it was clear he was nowhere near ready to deal with any real criminals yet-- if his shaking was anything to go by.

Harry aimed his gun at him, and the cop responded by shooting --at his feet. A warning, just like they taught in cop school.... Another sign he was just rookie.

To Harry, however, it looked like he just missed and was going to hit next time. 'It's him or me. It's him or me,' Harry thought, and pulled the trigger.

The noise echoed in slow motion as the cop's gun slipped out of his limp hand, before the man himself slid to the ground next to his partner. The blood started oozing from his wound and pooling to mix with that of his dead partner.

"Guess I'm a better shot than you are." Harry mumbled, while the Joker simply chuckled at the whole scene.

"Alright. Better make this quick, that's bound to make them come swarming. C'm on!" he picked up a rock from a bad attempt of a flowerbed outside a shopwindow and smashed the car window.

"Get in! And don't forget your loot!" he yelled at his son as he opened the doorlocks and hotwired the car. The whole thing was over within a minute, but to Harry it felt like a year. 

His little heart was racing and his mouth felt dry. He stuffed the candy in the backseat for later, he was very sure he couldn't manage to eat a thing right now.

He killed a cop. He _killed_ him! Just like that!

He didn't like it, but his dad had told him that it got easier with time. And he had to admit it had been easy. Too easy. But he still didn't like it.

Maybe his dad was right... Maybe when he'd killed a dozen... 

He swallowed the lump in his throat. He wasn't sure he wanted to kill a dozen people. It still felt kinda... wrong.

Maybe his dad was right. Maybe they were already dead and he was just helping them along.

Yeah. Dead.

That thought made him feel a little better.

* * *

"Dad..."

"What is it son?"

"I can't sleep. Can you tell me a story? A nice one? The nightmares aren't so bad when you tell me nice stories."

"Of course, of course. Which do you want to hear?"

"How about the... the Wonderland story. I like that one. And how the nice Vorpal monster kills the evil hero Alice in the end. And the lonely Queen of Hearts drove the King she loved mad so she could marry him. And the Smiling Cat that was secretly working for her goes on to spread madness and joy to all of Wonderland. It's such a happy ending." Harry smiled weakly. He wished real life was as nice as it was in stories. And without nightmares.

"Of course I can!" the Joker grinned and pulled out his self-made children's book.

"Once upon a time there was a very lonely Queen...."

* * *

"I don't see why you don't just send him a Valentine gift instead. I mean... He's not as smart as you are, dad. You told me so yourself. He's not gonna take the hint if the only thing you give him is birthday cards."

"Shouldn't you be bothering your mother? I'm trying to work!" the Joker muttered maliciously.

"Just send him something he'll actually _**like!**_ It's not like you have to play secret santa for his...whatever he is when he's not Batman... but at least send him a nice heart or something! Or cake. Everyone loves cake." Harry tried to argue. He wanted his dad to be happy, and he wasn't doing a very good job at wooing the Batman.

His dad would never admit it of course, but Harry knew how his daddy got around the Bat, and there was no other explanation than him being in love with him. He knew his dad well enough to recognize the signs.

 _"Get. **OUT!!!!"**_ the Joker slammed his hands down at his desk with enough force to send the papers flying off it. Harry wasn't stupid enough to hang around and argue while his dad was in one of his bad moods, so he ran away as fast as his short legs could carry him.

He'd try and help his dad later, when he was in a better mood. And wasn't working. He hated being disturbed while working. How did he forget about _that?_

He tried to focus, but for some reason his thoughts were a little fuzzy and jumping around. It started right after... after... It wasn't like anything special had happened, really. It must have been one of his nightmares. Yeah... It was probably his nightmares. Maybe he should try the pills again.

"Oh, there ya are! Mommy's little Jester!" his mom pranced over and enveloped him in a hug like she always did.

"Mooom...." Harry complained happily. He wasn't used to being hugged, but after meeting his mother, it seemed like he'd never managed to go half a day without it. She was incredibly...hug-y. He liked it tho, once he got over the initial discomfort with being touched.

"Did you want me for something?" he tried. 

"Huh?"

He sighed exasperated and smiled as he hugged her back. His mother would forget her own head if it wasn't attached, he was sure.

"Oh, right! Mistah Jay told me he was plannin' a meeting with some assosissat...assocaates...friends!" she struggled with big words sometimes. Mr. Jay had said it had something to do with age regression and shock therapy.

"I duknow what for, but it's reeeeeeal im'potant that we don't disturb him non!" she paused.

"So I'mma taking you out for ice cream! And maybe pickin' up some stuff down at the grocery store. Did I ever teach you how to shoplift?"

"Yes mom... Last week even." he held back a found exasperated smile, "But I could always use some more practice."

"Great! Change into som'thin' with lotsa pockets and let's get crackin'!"

* * *

"Boring. Lame. Not funny," the Joker was sitting by his desk, throwing away one discarded idea after another.

"Been done. Too...'Riddler', " he made quotation-marks in the air with his fingers.

"Nope. Definitely not! _**GAAAAHHHH!!!"**_ he threw the last pieces of paper in the air and clasped his head, bashing it against the desk a few times for good measure.

"Why is it so _**hard**_ to come up with new gifts to my darling Bats?!"

He sighed and opened the drawer to find his little bottle of 'inspiration'. He almost missed the electric shock therapy in Arkham. It seemed like he always got his best ideas there. Maybe he just needed a holiday....

He spotted the drawing his son had made him of him decorating a tied-up batman like a xmass tree, and he smiled.

No... He couldn't leave his son. Not just yet at least. Although Harley _**was**_ home... Maybe...

 _"Dad!_ _**Dad!"**_

Speak of the Devil...

 _ **"What?!**_ "

"Mom got herself arrested again!"

 _'No rest for the wicked,'_ he grabbed the bottle of whiskey and took a big sip.

* * *

* * *

_***A small nod to Superman: Emperor Joker, where the Joker got himself some seriously god-like powers and made himself Emperor of Everything.**_

 _ ***It actually does. Fear and Excitement is the exact same 'feeling' on a chemical level. I still find it amusing that the Joker of all people were the one to help me overcome my ridiculusly paranoid nature, but oh, well... The point is; It works. Just like pain and pleasure are interlinked.**_

 _ **Pain and Fear is kinda like riding a motorcycle; It SEEMS like you should resist it as hard as you can in those turns to not fall over, but what you REALLY want to do is lean into it. Go towards it, relax and laugh. Trust me: It's a far more pleasant way to live. ^_^**_

 _ ***A nod to our dealy beloved Emperor of Everything, aka, the Joker, in Superman Emperor Joker.**_

 _ ***FYI: They DO have a child together. Her name is Lucy. Harley dropped her off at her sister's place because she (quite reasonably for once) decided it was a bad idea for their child to grow up with them. The Joker doesn't know she exists.**_

 _ ***In case anyone wonders, I'm using the layout of Gotham in DC Online as my roadmap. I figured that when it's been approved by the same company that writes the original comic books, it's probably accurate. (Demon infestation and Hellgates aside.)**_

 _ ***Referring to the infamous Joker killing the second Robin --Jason I think-- in Death IN the Family. (Not to be mistaken with Death OF the Family. Which hasn't happened yet in my fic. Yeeeah... DC's timeline and tendency to revive character is a bit wacky.)**_

 _ **For clarification: My timeline is in Batman's solo period somewhere between The Killing Joke and Death of the Family. Nightwing is all grown out of his baby-feathers, Jason is dead, and Damien is not yet born.**_

 _ ***I decided to NOT let Harry name himself in a small tribute to how the Joker got HIS name. Which was, essentially, someone in a crowd labeled him the Joker and the media ate it up. The Joker decided he liked it, and kept it. (Although he COULD have been the one in the crowd suggesting it, so heck if I know. lol. Over-analyzing the Joker only leads to a headache. I go with the most likely solution most the time.)**_

 _ **IMPORTANT QUESTION FOR MY READERS!**_

 _ **This fanfic is, as may be obvious, M rated in a large part because of the violence and potential torture. It is also a Batman/Joker story --even if that will fall in the background as it focuses mainly on Harry. At least once he goes off to Hogwarts.**_

 _ **However!**_

 _ **How many wants to see the sex scenes in this included in vivid, violent, vivacious details, and how many want to never see it and prefer vague allusions to it? Show of hands!**_

 _ **I decided to give people a few chapters before it begins, so everyone gets a chance to vote. The most votes win!**_

 _ **A note for you who DID notice this**_

 _ **It may seem like Harry's break did not affect him, but believe me, it did. And I haven't forgotten. An observant reader may already notice early signs of psychosis.**_

 _ **Everything Harry experienced HAS changed him, but the change isn't as obvious when he is around his father, because fundamentally, he's still a kid. And as long as he is with his father --temper swings aside-- he acts very much like a kid WOULD. Psychotic break or not.**_

 _ **It will all come to heads in the next chapter~**_

 _ **Psychoanalytic Theory #002- Joker:**_

 _ **The Joker does not hurt people DESPITE loving them...he hurts them BECAUSE he loves them. (That is my theory anyhow.)**_

 _ **In case it was not so blatantly obvious with how he considers Batman his 'best friend' and considers Batman punching him 'love taps' (he really DOES up until that incident that kicks of the whole End Game), then all you need to do is to look at the story in which the foolishly brave reporter tells him he's just lonely...**_

 _ **He systematically removes any and all competition, and scares the living daylight out of the guy, PURELY because he realized (or knew) that the guy was right, and so decided to make HIM his friend. (Of course, it IS possible his reason for befriending him was just that he admired his courage. And wanted to break it. Much like he do with heroes.)**_

 _ **And yes, I strongly believe he DOES view himself as that guy's friend. Otherwise he would have simply abandoned him when his life came crashing down and he could fall no lower. At the end of the story, the game is over, yet the Joker does not let go. And he seems very pleased with it.**_

 _ **The Joker is in many ways the living embodiment of the saying "You always hurt the ones you love." That's how he shows love. (Possibly because he hates everyone at the same time as he loves a few. In his mind the emotions are not separate. So he expresses both at the same time to the same person.)**_

 _ **And in all fairness... I don't think he could stop hurting people if he -tried-. Something he'd never do --not for long anyway, as seen when he joined the Dove Corps-- not even if it destroyed him. (His self-destructive tendencies is a whole other can of worms I won't touch upon here.)**_

 _ **It should also be said that he honestly think going mad is a -good- thing, and that he's helping people when he drives them insane. (See Killer Smile --not just what he says, but when and HOW he says it.)**_

 _ **Also, being insane is NOT being sick to him. Sanity is the illness in his book. (At least in his conscious mind. His subconscious is, yet again, a whole other can of worms. He has MANY cans of worms. lol)**_

 _ **Insanity is just a different name for genius, given by the massed who can't understand.**_

 _ **(Funny enough he don't seem to have been insane from the start. In the pre-70s comics he's very sane, very greedy classic criminal, and goes to the regular state penitentiary jail. In the 70s however, he suddenly turned darker, more sadistic and hateful, more obsessed with Batman, and his motives stopped making sense to any sane person.)**_

 _ **My point about Pain can also be seen in 'Harleen' by Stjephan Sejic.**_

 _ **"Pain is at the heart of comedy. So know this: When I hurt you, I do it to show you the Funny side of Life. I want you to Laugh with me."**_

 _ **"To truly laugh, you must be able to take your pain, and play with it!" --Charlie Chaplin. That quote was mentioned near the Joker in one comic book.**_

 _ **This needs to be combined with the fact that he finds life "A black, awful Joke," (and several other clues) gives you a STRONG clue as to why he believes hurting and killing people is actually a -good- thing to do. Not necessarily nice, but...right/correct/the only option/helpful in a hateful way. (Consciously, again, his subconscious = can of worms)**_

 _ **Pair that with his intense Hate of just about everything, and you have a VERY complicated person on your hands. One who's love is absolutely TERRIFYING.**_

 _ **(Or charming, if you're me. Or insane. Or both. lol. But terrifying to most people.)**_

 _ **Still... I look forward to learn more about his fascinating Psyche and add to what I know. Feel free to tell me if you want me to share more. ;)**_


	4. Jester Reborn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Living with the Joker is never easy, but Harry loves his new life and his new family, and all the fun they have together.
> 
> The only problem is when his past comes back to haunt him, and then something very, VERY bad happens....

_Harry looked around him. The shadows dancing on the walls in Dursley's old livingroom made the place look dark and forsaken in the wicked, moonless night._

 _However, in that vast darkness of flickering shadows came the whimpering sound of a child that was trying very hard not too cry, but could not hold back his tears._

 _Harry turned around to face the sound, and found himself looking at a child that looked to be only a year or two younger than himself. However, this child looked smaller than he was. Lank and lean and thin, as if he had not eaten a full meal in his entire life._

 _"Who are you?" he asked._

 _The small child came out from the shadows in which he was hiding, but the black hair fell across his eyes and cast dark shadows over his features._

 _Harry felt like it was someone he knew, but he couldn't quite place him. There was, however, a strange familiarity about him._

 _"I have to do my chores, or they'll be angry," the boy said, his voice a low, fearful whisper._

 _"Come with me, I'll help you escape," he said, reaching out to the kid. For some reason he felt a deep need to save him. It was Important. **Very** important._

 _"Stay away from me, Monster!" the kid shouted at him and took off. Harry could see where to, the kid was too fast._

 _"Wait!" he spun around and looked for some clue where the boy might have gone of to. He **had** to save him. Get him away from this bad place!_

 _He knew this place was bad. He **knew** it!_

 _Suddenly he heard something rummaging around in the cupboard that had once been his room. It was faint. Nothing more than a weak thud, and maybe a small creek._

 _Did the boy hide in there? It would make sense. The cupboard was the safest spot he had known in the house, back when he had been their prisoner._

 _Harry carefully looked around the ominous dark room and slowly crept across the moonlit floor towards the cupboard. He opened the door slowly, and peeking around it's edges, he looked inside._

 _There was a staircase there, but he couldn't find the switch. Was the kid hiding in the basement?_

 _He fumbled his way down the stairs, just a few steps, and there he finally found the switch. He flicked it on. And he **saw...**_

 _Bodies._

 _Bloated, Bulging, Blackened, **Beastly** bodies!_

 _Harry screamed and rushed up, only to find the door had slammed shut after him. And there was no latch or lock on the inside, and no way to escape the horrors awaiting him just a few feet away._

 _"No, no, no, no! Let me out! **Let me out!"** he screamed and bashed his fists at the door, before it occurred to him to kick at it._

 _The door creaked._

 _A second kick and it Cracked._

 _Several more kicks and the wood splintered._

 _He threw himself against the door with all his might and it finally burst open._

 _Once he was out, heaving and sobbing on the floor, he threw up whatever lunch he might have had that day._

 _He quickly rushed to close the door and lock it. He even pushed a small bookshelf in front of it. Never again. **Never again!**_

 _The room was as quiet and dark as ever, and Harry wiped away his tears, then wiped his mouth with his sleeve. He could still taste the bile on his lips._

 _He realized he had yet to find the kid, and it was important that he did, and fast._

 _And the kid was not down there, in that deep dark with those rotting bodies... He was sure of that._

 _He knew the kid wasn't. He just **knew.**_

 _As he looked around the darkened room once again, he heard it._

 ** _Clank_**

 _The sound had come from the kitchen. It sounded like something heavy, something metallic, hit the kitchen floor._

 _That's it! The kid must have run in there! The sound he heard... he must have knocked something off the stove or something._

 _Of course! It was a much more logical place to hide in than a closet!_

 _He carefully walked across the previously moonlit floor, so as not to stumble in the darkness._

 _The moon had long since gone, and whatever streetlights that might be outside the windows, hidden from his gaze, only caused the shadows to loom larger than they ever had before._

 _It almost felt like an omen. A warning._

 _'Do not Enter'_

 _With trepidation in his heart, Harry braved forwards, even if all he wanted to do was to escape._

 _He looked over at the front door._

 _How strange... Was there always a green, glowing 'exit' sign over it?_

 _It had creaked open, and something resembling light and laughter was on the other side._

 _He couldn't really make it out. He had the strangest feeling you had to walk through it to **really** see what was there, but he had a mission._

 _Tempting tho it was to run to safety, he **had** to find that kid! To save him!_

 _Even if a small part of him felt like it might already be too late..._

 _Fumbling around in the darkness, he could barely make out some vague shapes here and there. Most of the room were thrown into shadows and the rest was a pitch-black abyss of night. He had to feel his way around to even find the doorknob._

 _It seemed like the room was getting darker the closer he got to the kitchen-door, and only the front door with the large, glowing 'Exit' sign on was visible still._

 _He tried to peer into the darkened room, but all he could see was vague shady outlines. He flickered on the light-switch, but it fizzed and cracked and blew a fuse, leaving only a flickering eerie light to see in._

 _In the dim light he saw a kitchen island in the center of a large kitchen. Cooking knives of every size was tossed carelessly on the top, some of them had dark stains on them. He felt queezy just thinking about what it might be._

 _Then he thought he heard some movement, a small sound escaping from behind the kitchen counter. That big island table that were currently blocking his view, large enough that a small child could hide behind it._

 _Was the kid hiding there? All hunched down and frightened?_

 _His foot caught in something, and he stumbled slightly. Stopped._

 _The thing made a clattering metallic sound as he accidentally kicked it across the floor, it slid halfway over to the counter before it came to a halt. Right where the dying light was the brightest._

 _A crowbar. Blood. Sickening, Sweet, Stomach-turning Blood._

 _Fresh, sticky, icky, blood._

 _The deep red color was unmistakable for someone who had already seen it._

 _Harry felt a wave of nausea well up in him, and he placed his hand in front of his mouth to stop it._

 _He stepped closer to the island counter, and each step felt like a ominous foreshadowing of horror. But he had to know..._

 _The mess on the floor had once upon a time been a human, but now it was hard to recognize it as such._

 _The bones were broken in a number of places and they all stuck out in weird, unnatural angles._

 _The head was a mess of tangled hair, blood and brain matter. It may have been blond, or brown...it was hard to see as the sticky red liquid had now colored the entire hair in the color of blood._

 _And the whole area around it was a mess of blood, guts and other bits of human anatomy that he didn't even want to think about!_

 _In fact, as he lifted his eyes, he realized the whole room was like that!_

 _The white walls and curtain splattered with blood. The white cabinet broken and cracked. Even the once white roof were stained with the dark liquid, and it let it slip and slither down the formerly white walls._

 _He looked down at his hand. The crowbar? When had he picked that up? Why was he holding it?_

 _The corpse looked up to him. There were tears in the one blue eye that was still intact, and it looked up at him with the most gruesome look of despair._

 _"Why?" she asked, her vocal chords shattered and scratchy._

 _"Why?"_

 _"I didn't mean too! I didn't want too!"_

 _"Why?" the corpse dragged itself closer to him, close enough to almost touch him. Harry slowly backed away._

 _Harry dropped the crowbar, wiping the blood of his hand on his clothes and backing away._

 _"I didn't mean too! It wasn't my fault!"_

 _"Why?"_

 _The dead-not dead hand grasped at his pants and clawed at his feet. It's weak grip and stained hands slippery and unsteady. Still it moved._

 _"No-no-no-no," he muttered and rushed out of the kitchen._

 _He slammed the door shut and leaned against it, sobbing. Wishing it was all over. That it had never happened._

 _The light over the door glowed red._

 _'Emergency Exit'_

 _He was tempted. But...._

 _He felt the door rattle against his back and he rushed up and away from it. He quickly dragged the couch in front of it, and looked again. The rattling had stopped, but Harry walked backwards across the moonlit floor._

 _The whole house had begun to creek, and the walls were cracked. **Something** , possibly mold, was creeping up the walls and tainting them. _

_There was no light in the living-room, save for the moonlight streaming in through the windows and painting everything in pale darkness._

 _And again, the glowing red light over the front door._

 _'Emergency Exit'_

 _His foot slipped and he fell backwards into a puddle of something warm and sticky. He lifted his arm to see what it was, and in the faint light of the newly appeared moon, it seemed red._

 _He chocked back a scream._

 _He got up, wiping his hands on his clothes frantically, but it did no good. It wouldn't come off._

 _He swallowed his fear and turned to see what it was he had slipped in._

 _Blood! So much blood!_

 _The young policeman was lying there, his blood pooling around him. He was dead- **not dead.**_

 _"I'll get you! Someday I'll get you!" the corpse said._

 _"No! You won't! I... I won't let you!" he pulled out the gun, and he shot the corpse dead._

 _Again and again and again._

 _The gun fired. And fired._

 _The barrel smoked._

 _The corpse bled._

 _The blood was now rising, threatening to flood the entire room. A sea of sticky, sickly red in the pale light of a dying moon._

 _Harry fled up the stairs._

 _The bathroom! He could wash his hands there. Get this sticky mess off himself and find the kid._

 _ **He had to save the kid!**_

 _The light in the bathroom was dim, but the bulb it had worked. And the kid was there. Pressed against the far wall, looking at him with terror in his eyes._

 _"Monster!" the kid said, pressing against the wall. The door was also there. The red light blazing._

 _'Emergency Exit'_

 _"No! It's not mine! Look, I'll wash it off!"_

 _"Monster!"_

 _Harry rushed over to the sink, turning the tap on. It coughed and sputtered. The water was as red as the blood downstairs at first, but it slowly turned clear enough to use. And Harry quickly washed his face and hands as best he could in that murky water._

 _He slowly lifted his head to check himself out in the mirror, to see if he had got it all..._

 _He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror._

 _And then he laughed. Hysterically._

 _And the laughter echoed through the room. It screeched and twisted and slowly turned into a horrified, grotesque scream._

 _All the while he could not stop laughing!_

 _And the face... the face in the mirror... **his** face...._

 _"Monster!"_

 _Harry ran for the door._

* * *

Harry screamed and shot up in bed, frantically reaching for the light on his nightstand.

The room were quickly flooded in a soft, yellow light that chased the Darkness away. 

He curled up under the blankets and shuddered, the dream lingering on long after it was gone. The horrible sensations from the nightmare continued to haunt him. He _hated_ nightmares!

He had been...somewhere. Doing....something-- he couldn't remember exactly what or where, but it felt important. 

The last flickering fragments of the dreams was already fading, falling away, slipping through his fingers like sand...

But the dark feelings lingered. Like a bad taste in his mouth. And he felt terrified at the thought of going back to sleep. 

He feared what might be waiting for him there, in the deep, dark reaches of his mind. In the dark dreams that dragged him down like demons in the night.

He pulled open the drawer to the nightstand, and let out a sigh of relief.

Pills. 

Pills and whiskey. 

His dad had replaced his formerly empty supply with new ones. And Harry was immensely grateful for it.

He grabbed a pill, then changed his mind and grabbed a second one.

He swallowed them down with the whiskey and scrounged his face up at the taste. He'd never get used to that taste. Like burnt wood. But it always made him feel better.

He leaned back and rubbed his eyes. It would take some time for the pills to kick in and let him sleep. Nice, dreamless sleep.

He picked up the remote to the small tv and DVD player his father had stolen for him and flipped it on. Maybe some light comedy would calm him down and make him feel better again.

He pushed in a DVD of the Marx Brothers comedy shows and leaned back against the pillow, smiling at their antics. Every now and then he took another sip of the whiskey bottle, and slowly he felt the dark, evil feeling of fear loosen up and let go.

He felt a bit hazy the more he drank, and he couldn't quite follow the plot anymore, so he switched the dvd to something with Charlie Chaplin instead. He was so funny and so violent, and always made him laugh. And he didn't have to worry about following the story-line, he was funny no matter what.

He laughed at the TV. Then he laughed at the fact that he had thought TV and not 'Telly'. He felt he was getting better at the american accent, and soon nobody would ever know he wasn't from here. That he hadn't always lived here, with his dad. And mom.

Or maybe he always had and just thought he was from england. Would _that_ be funny?!

He felt his eyes flutter shut, and listened to the funny music from the TV as he slowly drifted back into the land of sleep. 

This time there was no dreams, just rest.

* * *

"Dad...?"

"Hm?"

"How do you stop being scared?"

The Joker turned away from his work to look at his son. Really look at him. Harry knew he was reading him with an eerie accuracy, while looking for the right words to use.

"You become a Monster yourself. The biggest, scariest Monster of the all,"* he smiled as he lifted his son up on his knee.

"Are Monsters never scared?"

"Oh, Monsters can get scared too, son. That's why you need to become the scariest monster of them all! Make them _fear_ you!"

Harry listened intently, furrowing his brow.

"But what if nobody wants to play with me anymore? If even all the monsters are all scared of me?"

"When you have become the scariest Monster of them all, you will need to find an equally scary Monster to play with. Oh, you may not agree on everything. He may hate you, but that's okay. Because Hate and Love are the same thing. You might fight and bite and scratch. But that's all a part of the fun. That's how Monsters play! And it is so, SO much fun!" the Joker's eyes went nostalgic as his lips stretched into that familiar, disturbingly wide grin.

Harry went quiet and looked to be thinking this over. 

"Am I a monster? Is that why no one wants to play with me?" he hesitated to ask, but he had to know. His voice quivered slightly, even if he tried hard not too.

"Everyone's a monster, deep down. It's just that some of them still wear the wool of a sheep. And all sheep are scared whenever they see someone who lets their own Monster run free. It echoes deep down in the bowls of their own nature, and they reject it, because they fear to embrace it," he paused.

"But nearly every person in the world have a secret monster hidden, deep down. All tied up and leashed. Hungry and pacing it's cage. Just **_waiting_** to break free!"

"You see...It starts with _**fantasies--**_ That wishful thinking that makes your muscles _**twitch**_ as you imagine wrapping your hand around your enemy's **_neck."*_**

"But I don't have enemies," 

"Sure you do! Those people you meet, have met, and think _**wouldn't things be so much better if they were dead?**_ Those people who's very presence turns things sour."

And Harry thought back. On an abusive uncle and a coldhearted aunt. On a bully of a cousin and neighbors that never cared. People who listened to rumors instead of him.

"We all know them. And it starts with them. They are the first ones to _**test**_ you," he paused.

"Gotham is _**full**_ of people like that. Hands twitching while they dream of _**violence,**_ shivering with barely suppressed _**rage,**_ brimming with righteous _**indignation.**_

Smiling politely as they imagine _**savage**_ things.

Every last one of them a **_bomb_** that needs but a single spark to set it off. 

And then... Well, that's when things get _ **fun."**_

Harry listened, his eyes wide as saucers. 

Was the whole world like that? He knew his aunt was. And his uncle. And his cousin. And his aunt's friends... Was _everyone_ like that?! He didn't want to believe it, but... 

He bit his lip. It seemed stupid to not believe it, now when he thought about it. 

All you have to do to see it is look to the people around you. Those who silently hate someone, but smiled politely to their face. Those who says bad things about people they dislike and pretend they like them. Just like his aunt's gossiping friends.

Maybe his dad was right. His dad had always been right about everything else...

"I have seen it many times over-- You see how eagerly the _**good people**_ turn into _**violent beasts.***_

After all, Gotham's a city where angels fly on the wings of Icarus... _Up, up, up they go_ and then...

 _Down. Down. Down. they fall._

Until we all stand revealed for who we truly are **_underneath."_**

"Are you saying all the good people are just **_monsters_** in hiding?" Harry asked, looking shocked.

"Until the rubber bands of the masks **_snap._**

I mean... All the _**normal**_ people dream of going crazy every now and then... Problem is, when they do, there's **_no going back."_**

Harry left his daddy's office feeling more shook up than he ever had before. He flicked on the tv, but the news never had anything nice to say about anyone, so he turned it off again. He wasn't in the mood to watch any comedies before bed.

And once he went to bed that night, he too dreamed of Savage things.

* * *

"Harry? Why's all the mirrors covered in blankets and..." she paused to sniff "...dirty laundry?"

"...not me," Harry muttered.

"Don't try blamin' this on yer father! I know for a fact he hasn't been home for the last tree days!"

"No. In the mirror! 's not me!" Harry shouted and ran off to his bedroom, slamming the door in the process.

Harley could only stare after him, wondering what the hell was going on. This was one effed up dream.... Not that it hadn't always been.

She wondered when it would finally end. It had been going on for so long now...

* * *

"It's okay. Just act normal, Harry. Nothing's wrong. Dad's working, mom's...somewhere... Everything's normal," Harry muttered to himself as he paced back and forth in his room.

But something-- he couldn't quite put his finger on what just felt... _off._

He couldn't describe it. 

Like random thoughts popping into his head almost like someone else put them there. Or he'd get caught up in staring at a puddle of water because it was so sparkly and shiny and more real than everything around it.

He even ended up attacking that suspicious kid that had come in to their home talking about the place being haunted or something. He was sure that kid had _really_ been after _him._

At least... He _had_ been sure. That boy was was gonna... gonna.... 

He frowned and rubbed his head.

Sometimes it felt like he was watching someone else do things. Violent things. Like it wasn't even him controlling his actions!

And when he stood over the cold, dead body of the kid he had felt so lost and alone... It was terrifying in so many ways... not knowing what or why.... Not having control...

He shook his head rapidly to get rid of the thought. It was confusing and scary, and he didn't like to think about it.

Maybe his dad was right. Maybe it was better to just let go and go along with everything and not think about it.

Thinking about things hurt.

* * *

"Happy birthday son!"

Harry stared out at the carnival grounds. They were covered in presents bigger than a grown man in size, and each one was wrapped in green wrapping-paper with white polka-dots on and had a big purple bow on top. 

"Are all these for _**me?!?"**_ Harry squealed in joy.

"Of course!" the Joker spread his arms wide in a gesture of generosity. 

"Oh, and..." he threw a brightly-painted gun at Harry. "You're gonna need this."

"I duknow, Puddin'... Isn't it a little... I mean... He's _only_ nine!"

"Nonsen! I even turned the Killer Clown Bots on the 'Low' setting, and the policemen have no weapons!"

Harry grinned up at his dad. He felt a little nervous, but also very exited. He let out a laugh. Laugh always chased the fear away and made everything fun instead.*

"Alright, listen up kid. Here's the rules!"

"There are a number of these gifts spread out all over the park. They all contains various fun and games, and --sometimes dangerous-- gifts. 

One of them has a _**very**_ special surprise that I just know you'll love! All you have to do is to open them all up to find it!" he moved to pull out his start-flag gun from his pocket.

"Oh, and... try to survive," he placed his glove-covered hand on Harry's shoulder. "I've grown used to having you around, kid. And Harley would be a nightmare if you got killed."

It made Harry beam and hug his dad when he heard him say it. That was as close as he would **_ever_** get to admit he cared about someone. Except maybe Batman.

"I'll find it dad! I won't let you down! You'll see!" Harry said. 

And that was as close as _**he**_ would come to admit he cared for someone as well. His dad didn't like expressions of love, so Harry was very careful to avoid it. But he still wanted to show his dad how much he cared.

"Alright kiddo. Ready. Set. _**Go!"**_

The sound of the gun and the speed with which the start-flag in it shot off into the unknown distance hinted that it might not have been a toy-gun after all. Not that it mattered.

Harry took of running at the sound of the shot, aiming for the first gift he could find. It wasn't all that far away, and Harry was getting more and more exited as he fumbled with getting the big gift open.

"Gah!" Harry jumped back in surprise, falling off the lid as something burrowed it's way out the side the second the ribbon came off.

Out of the box a tiny little robot clown strode out and immediately began shooting...something at him. He was pretty sure that it was either lethal or would hurt like a bitch if it hit him.

"Ha... Ha... Ha..." the robotic voice spoke, as it tried to kill him.

First rule of living with the Joker is... When something shoots at you, you shoot back. Before it kills you. Because it _will_ kill you.

So that's exactly what Harry did.

The first shot was a bit off, but the second time around he got lucky and hit the jackpot.

"Yes! Right in the...whatever he has instead of a brain. Hardware?" Harry cheered and went to check if there was anything other than the robot in the leftover scraps of the box. No such luck.

Oh, well... There was always the next box.

Harry giggled with anticipation as he ran towards yet another brightly colored box.

* * *

"Did ya tell him that some of the police men were random people in police costumes that you picked off the streets because you couldn't find enough police men? Or that you gave them toy-guns and not real ones?"

"Now why would I want to do that?" the Joker looked at Harley before he cheered his son on as he shot yet another 'cop'.

 _ **"That's it boy! Keep going! Kill enough of 'em and you'll win a special prize!"**_ he yelled.

 _ **"Yaaaaay!!!"**_ Harry let out a shout of joy, and Harley just couldn't break the truth to him. 

The Joker might not see the difference, but she sure did. And she was sure Harry wouldn't like it so much if he knew the people he killed wasn't really trying to kill him first.

But she'd never argue with her Puddin'. Mr. Jay always knew best.

* * *

"Alright kiddo, you got the plans for the day?"

"Uh-huh! First uncle Ed is gonna teach me school stuff, then my mom's gonna pick me up and teach me how to bounce around like she does, and _then_ uncle Johnny is gonna teach me how to be a better shot," Harry beamed up at his dad, proud that he remembered everything.

"And...?"

"And, um... Not to disturb you no matter what?"

"That's my boy!" the Joker grinned and ruffled his hair. Harry melted into the touch and grinned.

He was a little bit scared of uncle Johnny at first, he looked pretty big and mean. But deep down, the Joker's most trusted man was really just a big child with even bigger dreams... and a questionably mental health, considering he viewed the Joker as his biggest idol.

Not that Harry didn't think he was right tho. His dad was the _**best!**_

He even had the mafia scurrying around to do his bidding if he wanted them too! Uncle Ed had told him so. 

Harry had been sad to hear about the time when his daddy couldn't laugh. He wasn't himself without that laughter, and Harry just couldn't imagine it. 

But Eddie was _such_ a good friend! He even started a whole war and lost it, just to make his daddy laugh again!

And he might not be as good at telling stories as his dad, or as funny, but... it was funny. Especially the how it all ended.*

Harry thought he had never laughed so hard as he did when he heard that!

* * *

"Dad!" Harry grinned as he saw his daddy step in the door just as he was loading up his gun.

"I didn't think you'd come!" Harry beamed up at him.

"And miss my boy's shooting practice? Nonsense!" the Joker chuckled and ruffled his hair. Before he snapped his fingers at the people that followed not too far behind him.

"I even brought a little gift for my boy."

The goons dragged in five tied up men that looked about ready to wet their pants. 

He must have snatched them straight off the street. They already looked ready to pass out from fear, just from being dragged into position. These were clearly not cops.

"Now stand still! If the apple falls off your head...." the Joker let the threat hang in the air as he carefully placed a big, red apple on top of each of their heads.

They tried their bests to stop shivering, and force themselves to stand perfectly still, but the terror in their eyes told them that that wasn't gonna last lost. The woman in the group had already started crying.

"Perfect! Now you have five great targets!" the Joker stepped behind his son and placed his hands on his shoulders.

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat. They were not police men trying to kill him... They were just....people. Innocent people.

"I...I don't want to kill anyone..." Harry muttered, scared of even saying something. His daddy didn't like it when people defied him, and Harry didn't want to disappoint him either.

"Then don't miss!" the Joker patted his son's shoulders twice and stepped back, grinning widely from ear to ear as Johnny Frost stepped up and showed Harry how to aim for the best result.

"Now take a deep breath.... Let it all out..... Hold your breath, aaaand....."

Harry pulled the trigger, causing the guy in the middle to whimper as the bullet graced his cheek.

"Close, but you need to aim a bit higher and to the left. Try again."

Harry was shaking himself at this point, and as a result he ended up aiming way to low.

The man screamed out behind the ball-gag as the bullet sank deep into his shoulder.

"Try and stay calm. Just push all thoughts away except that of the target."

Harry took a deep breath. They were all worthless. They were all worms. Just like daddy said. There was no need to get upset over hurting some worthless worms. Daddy's right. Daddy's always right.

At least that's what he tried to tell himself.

When he rose the gun the next time, a hard look to his eyes, his hands were no longer shaking.

* * *

Harry looked around him, wondering what was going on. His eyes felt unfocused, and he felt as if something was just a bit... _'off'._

He had felt that way more than he liked lately, and he was a bit worried he might be falling out of reality, the way his dad sometimes seemed to do. Except his dad didn't. Not really. He was just a bit... detached from it.

"Harry, are you listening?" the Joker asked, looking over his shoulder at his son.

"I'm listening! I'm listening!" he shook his head, trying to get rid of the unfocused feeling in his head and actually listen to his dad.

He sometimes wondered how his dad always seemed to see everything he did, even if it was at the corner of his eye. His mom had told him that his daddy didn't really have any control over what 'input' he got from the environment. And that's why he always just went with the flow on everything.

It only served to confuse him further, but Harry decided against asking his mom more questions. She sometimes pulled out those big psychology words, and then it _really_ got confusing.

"....and that down there is the pool I took a dive into to get my handsome appearance, and my wonderful new world view!"

"Really? A pool? Like... a swimming pool?" Harry said and leaned over the railing. That strange unfocused feeling hit him again and he saw the nice green swimming-pool underneath them. He felt almost like reality faded in comparison to how _real_ and _pretty_ that pool looked. With all it's green swirls and whirls....

"...but Batman didn't...." his dad's words faded into background noise, along with his slowly fading footsteps, as Harry ducked under the fence, leaning even closer.

It was so pretty. He wanted to go swimming in the pretty pool far, far below....

"Harry? Harry!"

"Pretty...."

What happened next, Harry wasn't sure about himself.

Did he drop the railing and let himself fall? Did his hand slip? Did he lean too far out?

All he knew was that the pretty water was suddenly comming closer, and he was falling through the air at a high speed. He couldn't help but giggle as he felt the same funny feeling in his tummy as he did when the rollercoaster sent him flying, except more.

 _ **"Harry!!"**_

His dad's voice seemed to come from far away, and then there was no time to think about it. He hit the surface, hard. 

It knocked the air out of his lungs and he felt dizzy. He tried to swim, but he didn't know how.

And it _**burned!**_

Harry tried to cry out in pain as the burning sensation permeated his skin, his eyes, every part of his body felt like it was on fire! But all that happened was that he took in a mouthful of the chemical waste and now his mouth was burning too. And his lungs.

He splashed against the water, but he couldn't tell what was up and what was down. He couldn't breathe!

He felt his world fade, and his life flashing before his eyes.

His aunt, yelling at him.

 _'Freak'_

His uncle, dislocating his shoulder as he grabbed him too hard.

 _'Freak'_

His aunt hitting him over the head with the frying pan.

 _'Freak'_

Chores, chores and more chores.

The nice teacher. The nice teacher who was his friend. The nice teacher who was his friend, dead.

 _'Why?_ _'_

Disappointing his dad. His daddy's eyes. The crowbar.

 ** _'CLANK'_**

He remembered killing her. Beating and beating and beating. It never seemed to stop. And it hurt. And it burned.

 _'Why?'_

The policeman. A pool of blood.

 _'Monster'_

His dad, hitting him. The one he loved more than anything, hurting him.

 _'My own fault'_

The innocent people. The times when he missed the apple, when he hurt them, killed them.

 _'Monster'_

His world faded. Darkness slowly crept in from the side of his vision, mixing with little flashes of stars. The world was fading slowly, becoming something distant, a dream...

He thought he heard a sound. Like a splash, but far, far away.

He couldn't hear. The world faded....

Images flashed through his head and made him want to scream. The pain was just too much!

He saw a door... A big door with a sign over it saying 'Emergency exit'

Harry opened the door...

* * *

Joker turned just in time to watch his son fall. Why was he even there? How had he not noticed before that he was gone?

A scream. Harley screaming.

He looked down, saw tree goons fighting to stop her from jumping into the pool. Loyal to a fault of his command to keep her from touching anything. Or to keep her safe. He wasn't sure which. Right now it was annoying.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," he grumbled, before discarding his overcoat. "Must I do everything around here?!"

He sounded angry, grumpy. But there was a small, uncharacteristic note to his voice. Not quite a quiver. Not quite worry. But.. _.something._

He didn't waste another second before he dived into the swirling pool of toxic waste below.

It wouldn't be his first dip in that chemical mix, and he sincerely doubted it would hurt him any more than it already had.

His son, on the other hand....

He came up for a breath, before diving down yet another time.

The green toxic mixture was opaque. He couldn't see a hand in front of him, much less a child further away.

Another trip for air, another futile search, more frantic this time.

There! Cloth! Hair!

He grabbed a hold of whatever he could find and dragged it up to the surface, changing his grip to make sure the boy's head got over water as soon as possible.

"Harley!" he yelled at her, and the goons were smart enough to let her go so she could run to the edge of the pool.

She was crying as she pulled his lifeless body out of the tank, helped by one of the goons. She cradled him to her chest, crying.

The Joker himself swam over to the ladder on the side and got himself out of there.

"Well, _do_ something!" he snarled, "Don't any of you know first aid?!"

But they didn't. Just shook their heads. And Harley was so out of it he doubted she even remembered her name right now.

"Move!" he said, violently pushing her out of the way, pulling Harry from her grip to lay him down in a steady position on the industrial floor.

"Harry!" he shook the boy's shoulders, but he didn't respond.

He placed one hand on the boy's forehead to tilt his little head back, and used two fingers from the other hand to lift the chin. Making sure the airway was as clear as possible.

He normally didn't bother saving anyone but himself, but it was as if the knowledge came back to him from some other life that he had completely forgotten. He didn't let the thought linger.

He feared that the boy had swallowed some of the noxious mixture, however. He remembered how he did, the first time he fell in. Although he didn't remember much of what happened, or anything that had happened before that. Or after, for that matter. He didn't linger on that thought either. It felt bad. Painful. Scary.

He focused on his son. His pale, pale son. His hair was still soaked in the mixture and looked every bit as green as his own. But the Joker had no time to focus on that.

He placed his ear over his mouth to listen for breathing. But as he feared, there was no breath.

He wasted no time, placing his hands on the breastbone of his little chest, pressing down firmly, but taking care not to hurt the kid. He repeated it, wishing he had a doctor he could call in times like this, but in his position, there was never many medical people that wouldn't want him arrested on sight. Blowing up hospitals did not work in his favor.

After some thirty compression's, he tilted the boy's head up, pinched his nose and blew gently into his mouth for a second, before pulling back.

He repeated the process. One time. Two times. Tree times.

He feared he might have been too late, and a feeling not unlike regret bloomed in his otherwise blackened heart.

The boy coughed. 

Green, disgusting toxin oozed from his mouth as his father helped move him to the side.

The boy whimpered and threw up even more of the filthy, green stuff.

"Baby!" Harley screeched and pulled him into a bear-hug that she only let up when the Joker reminded her that the kid needed to breath.

"M...mom...?" he looked up at her, his acid green eyes seemed to almost glow behind the tears.

"Shh. It's okay honey. Mommy's gotcha' now," she gently swayed him to sooth him, while the Joker stood back with an inscrutable smile on his lips.

"There you are, Harry. For a second there I thought we had lost you," the Joker actually sounded vaguely concerned about this.

"Harry? W..who's...?!" he sounded terrified of the name, shaking his head as if he was trying to get rid of a bad memory.

What had happened? Who were these people?!

He sounded lost, looking up at his...dad, yes! That was his dad! Had always been his dad! 

His loving dad that read him bedtime stories and gave him pills that helped him sleep when he had bad dreams...

There was no...no... that name! It was a bad dream, that's all. That person didn't exist. It was a bad, bad dream, nothing more.

This woman, hugging him... This was...was... his mom? Wasn't it? He remembered her. He remembered her strong hands and gentle touches. Her bad cooking, and good cookies.

But he didn't... he couldn't.... Everything else was fuzzy, far away.

And when he tried to think about it he suddenly felt overwhelmed by such a pain that he quickly pushed it away.

It didn't matter anyway. All that mattered was that he was here. With him mom, and his dad.

He felt his mouth tilt up. He was smiling. He felt his face with his hands and discovered that he had a wide, wide grin plastered on his face. He was grinning.

But he wasn't grinning, yet his mouth was still smiling. How weird... But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

He was safe.

He was....

Then he started laughing. It was a terrifyingly painful sound, but it was so funny! Everything hurt! Everything was just....funny! 

The laughter echoed off the wall in the factory, and made the goons back away slowly, casting worried glances at the Joker.

Then he stopped. The laughter stopped abruptly as another thought asserted itself.

"Who am I?"

 _"Who **am** I?!"_

"You're mommy's little Jester. Yes, you are! Yes, you are!" Harley was quick to scoop him up in her arms to snuggle him, all the while glaring daggers at her --usually beloved-- Mr. Jay. 

The Joker just rolled his eyes at her antics, but he did look a bit worried. And he rested his hand on his son's head and smiled reassuringly down at him.

"You're my son. And you're safe. That's all that matters. You can be whoever you _want_ to be!" 

He quickly cleared his throat.

 _ **"Alright! Show's over! Back to work! Move it! Move it!"**_ the Joker clapped his hands and ushered the goons back to filling the tanks and cans they had brought with them, leaving Harley to comfort their son.

"Jester..." the boy mumbled. 

"I like it!" *

* * *

* * *

**_*This is an educated Guess as to what he believes in. Psychologically speaking it makes a lot of sense. The Joker spends A LOT of time and effort specifically to make his victims Fear him. He also shows little to no fear himself, no matter WHAT happens to him. (Except for his original name and the memories that might come with it, THAT Terrifies him.) But, as I said, still a guess._**

 ** _*The section where he lectures about humans as monster is taken word for word from Harleen. (What the Joker says to Harley when she is is psychiatrist still.)_**

 ** _*He's also Right. Just look up the Lucifer Principle and/or the Standford Prison Experiment._**

 ** _*Refereeing to The War of Jokes and Riddles._**

 ** _*The story 'uncle Eddie' aka, the Riddler, told Harry was the story set in Batman's second year as Batman, The War of Jokes and Riddles. I wasn't sure whether or not to write HOW that end --spoilers and all-- but DAMN if it wasn't hilarious! xD_**

 ** _Said a lot about who Batman really is too.... or WHAT he is. The Joker was always right, we all knew that... but now Batman knows it too. Even if he tries to deny it._**

 ** _*Batman KNOWS that the Joker used to be Jack Napier. I'm not saying more than that to avoid spoilers for all of you that has not yet read Three Jokers._**

 ** _*Sorry, I JUST couldn't help myself in hinting at the Joker's past, and how he got his name --even if the events are not 100% similar. lol_**

 ** _And yes... he's suffering a trauma-induced memory loss._**

 **Psychoanalytic Theory #004 - Joker:**

 **A fatal mistake most people make is confusing the Joker with a Psychopath, which is immensely wrong. Psychotic, yes. Psychopath, no.**

 **In Harleen (Harley Quinn's Backstory by Stjephan Sejic), he specifically proves the point wrong:**

 **"Do you ever FEEL REMORSE for the lives you've TAKEN?"**

 **"For the first ones... there was still that.**

 **I guess the first victim of the streets of Gotham is one's EMPATHY."**

 **In fairness, he is no different than any given criminal that kills in that aspect.**

 **(Of course he COULD be lying... But considering what we know about what kind of person he IS when he is Sane --see Going Sane--, this seems very, very plausible.)**

 **What makes the Joker so different is that he ENJOYS people's fear and terror more than almost anything else. (This could relate back to his Hating all of humanity issue.)**

 **And the 'delusional' side of his Psychosis makes him combine his dream of making people laugh with his intense hatred towards humanity and the world in general, in a way that WORKS. For him. Not so much for his victims.**

 **(I use brackets because I quite frankly agree with him. Just watch the news. Life in this world IS a black, horrible joke, it really is. More so in some areas than others.)**

 **Ever wondered how to survive an attack by him? Fear him.**

 **Fear him so much he will haunt your nightmares for the rest of your life, and you're very likely to live.**

 **(As proven by a numerous victims whom he HAS allowed to live. Most of them disfigured in some way that was deeply personal and related to their deepest fear. He never kills them. And they never dare to heal for fear that he will come after them if they do.)**

 **In Harleen he also -said- that the one other thing (than fear) that he loved...was an honest smile.**

 **Now, I have to admit it's tricky to tell when he is lying and not. But IF this is the case, it would explain a LOT.**

 **It would also most likely relate to the person he is/was deep underneath what the tragedy in his life made him.**

 **In Going Sane he ended up dating a ridiculously honest, down to earth girl that was very sweet. He hated the new 'junk' they put on tv and loved watching old (comedy) movies from the 40s, and listening to old radio tapes from the 40s. VERY old-fashioned in every way, and a gentleman to boot.**

 **(He is, amusingly enough, obsessed with comedians from the 20s, 30s and 40s. As the Joker.)**

 **A part of his mind --the deep subconscious part-- longs to return to a simpler time, and a simple life. And love. Perhaps more than anything, love. (He's a serious romantic.)**

 **(Of course, he's also on a serious amount of medication to look, think and stay sane in that story, and has amnesia, but hey!)**

 **And you see some of the same qualities in the possible backstory he has in The Killing Joke.**

 **(Although THAT backstory COULD be a figment of his imagination. All we ACTUALLY know is that his name is Jack Napier and, well... the thing about his wife and child revealed in Three Jokers. I won't give any spoilers. 😉 )**

 **Fun fact: In Harleen, it is stated that the Joker experienced Full Body Nerve Damage. (Also known as Perperial Neropathy.) Apparently it's pretty common and can have many causes, and can affect either one nerve, a group of nerves, or the whole body.**

 **(Going by what I think is the Suicide Squad comic, Harleen has a similar problem.)**

 **When you think about it, this makes a lot of sense. If you look at how badly he's hurt by Batman at times (he even got hit by a truck while running away from him once), and he only ever laughs... His sensations are CLEARLY damaged. At least to some degree.**

 **He told Harleen himself that it was caused by the fall into the chemical vat.**

 **"It felt like I was set on fire. But later it felt like my whole body was numb with novacain. And it's been like that ever since. Everything WORKS...but touch has to be....INTENSE."**

 **This could also explain WHY he loves Batman beating him up so much, and calls it "love taps."**

 **And I HAVE seen a quote --tho I don't know the source so no guarantee for reliabillity-- that he says that ever since the accident he lives in constant pain every day, and he's grown to love it. To love pain.**

 **The Joker seems to embrace physical pain as an escape from the mental pain he just can't handle. This indicate that he is an extremely sensitive person --emotionally--, which also explains why he went insane when he heard his wife and child had been killed.**

 **(And we all know how obsessive and single-minded he is when it comes to love. The person he loves becomes his whole world. He lives and breaths for them, and ONLY that one person.)**

 **That trait is what we later see with Batman and Harley alike. Except in his 'differently sane' state, it shows up as extremely creepy yandere actions.**

 **If he loves you, the only way you'll escape him is death. And even then chances are he'll follow you to Hell too.**


	5. XMass With the Joker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a xmass special in which we will dive a bit deeper into Batman's psychology, rather than the Joker and his little family.
> 
> But fear not! The Joker, Jester, and Harley will also feature prominently.
> 
> Catwoman also makes an appearance, tho I make no guarantees she will come back....

_**I do hope you enjoy this extra-long XMass special. And BOY did THIS turn out to be longer than I had planned! *Laughs*** _

_**I do apologize that this took longer than I anticipated, but this chapter ended up being the length of 3 normal chapters, so, well...**_

 _ **Ah, well... Hopefully I managed to get all the right references so the XMass stuff seem more american than british, but hey! There's more than one way to skin a cat, right?**_

 _ **At any rate, all's well that ends well, or so they say. ; )**_

 _ **Happy XMass everyone~**_

* * *

* * *

Batman stared at the card in his hand.

Every year, for longer than he could remember, the Joker had sent him a crismass card --as long as he was not locked up in Arkham. And even then, he occasionally did, somehow.

Sometimes it was coated in blood, other times in sugar. He never knew which one.

But this year....? This year it was coated in weird!

"Dear Batsy.

Against my better judgement I listened to ...someone's... advice, and has decided to give you what you want for crismass, rather than what I know you need.

So for crismass this year, you will get four whole weeks of crime-free vacation, courtesy of yours truly!

I told every single villain, lowlife, scum, thief, beggar and what-have-you that if they disturb your crismass celebrations this year I will eviscerate them! 

So you better thank me when you see me again!" 

The latter statement was followed by a winking smiley-face blowing him a kiss.

....of course it was.

"Oh, the small-fry are quaking in their cute little pants at the thought of dear old moi paying them a little visit, but I had to make some...deals... with some of the big bads to make everything run smoothly, and believe me when I say I had to go out of my way for some of those! The things I do for you, darling...."

Batman paused and couldn't stop the corners his mouth from twitching upwards, just a little. He could almost hear the clown sigh.

He continued to read. It seemed that even in his letters the maniac couldn't stop rambling.

"It was really only Mr. Freeze that had anything planned, but you wouldn't believe the outrageous things he demanded of my own poor self in order to call it off!

But enough about that. I find that whining about things spoils the good mood and holiday cheer, don't you?

Enjoy your four weeks of crime free crismass....not that I think you will, but do try.

Love

\--Joker--"

* * *

It had now been five whole days since he got the letter from the Joker, and it seemed like so far he had kept his promise.

There was no signs of any crimes, of any kind, going down anywhere.

No robberies. No muggings. No shady deals down at the docs. No super-villains resurfacing, not as much as a whisper, even from those he knew had escaped Arkham. 

And more surprisingly, no new breakouts from Arkham, despite the fact that a few of those who might have tried had recently gotten some --apparently benevolent-- gifts from a mysterious benefactor.

Five whole days without crime!

He hadn't believe it at first. But now, the harder he looked, the less it seemed to be a scam. Unless it was the calm before the storm, but even those usually had a certain whispering undertone of trouble to come that he could feel.

This was just... calm. The kind of calm he had always wished for, but never dared hope to see.

And the only overlaying feeling the various criminals had showcased was a terrified fear of doing any for of crime until after the new year.

Batman took one last look at the town he had sworn to protect, deciding there was nothing more that was going to happen tonight anyway.

This was what he always wanted...wasn't it? 

So why then, did he feel so...disappointed?

* * *

"A dash more of those chilies in the next batch Harley-girl!" Joker yelled over at where Harley was mixing things up in the kitchen.

"And more Jack Daniels, mom!" Jester said happily and sipped his multicolored straw before he fell into drunken chuckles.

"If ya want want more ya can make it yourself!" Harley shouted back grumpily at the two drunken idiots on the couch.

'Family time my sweet patootie.'

All day she had been working on cleaning the house, decorating it, doing all the crismass-shopping for them all --including stealing a freakin' tree! In Gotham City!

She had to break into five homes before she found one that actually had one that fitted their cramped little hideout, and still looked good.

And where was the gratitude?!

Sometimes she wondered why she put up with all their crap, she really did.

"We're just joking, mom! The eggnog is awesome! Mu-wah" Jester said, placing the cup down and moved both hands to his lips in the universal Italian-chef kissing motion.

Joker laughed and went over to grab Harley and tip her over, planting a very drunken kiss that left her whole world spinning.... before he unceremoniously dropped her on her ass and left her in a daze on the floor. 

She felt dizzy, as if she was the one who had drunken enough eggnog to kill an elephant, and touched her lips reverently.

"Hey, kid, wanna see who's the best shot?" the Joker slurred and stumbled towards the gun-cabinet to grab something to have fun with.

"Do it outside! Outside!!" Harley yelled, "I ain't washing paint off the walls again today! Or blood!"

"And don't kill each-other!" 

"Don't worry ma', we'll totally go out and, uh, bring you back something...something....uh....Ooof," Jester rambled at her before he stumbled over an empty bottle on the floor, which send the both of her boys into yet another fit of laughter.

"What were we doing? Oh! Guns!" the sound of laughter reached Harley ears, indicating they had no intention of ever stepping outside to play their little game.

'Well... At least they won't freeze to death in the winter chill...

What I don't do for my family', she sighed to herself. 

But she couldn't help cracking a smile as she watched the two of them grabbing the newly invented "Fun-Guns" --which was really just a modified grenade launcher-- and shoot glitter and paint at each-other, staining everything else in the process.

Well... At least she wouldn't be cleaning up any blood tonight.....

She watched as Jester hit his dad straight in the nose with a smoke-pellet the size of his fist.

'Not much blood anyway.'

* * *

It had now been a whole week without any form of crime, and Batman was slowly getting jittery.

"Is this really necessary, sir? I have never seen the Joker break a promise when he made it to you. Not since that fiasco with the shark-tank at least," Alfred said, sighing as his master once again put on his Batsuit and got ready for another night of patrolling the city.

Even the Police has told him there was nothing at all going on in the entirety of Gotham. Even drug-users had signed up for rehab...or at least seemed to have vanished out of sight in a way that suggested that if they even were using drugs now, they were not going to their usual suppliers for it.

It was almost like someone had gone through a lot of trouble to get any and all criminal action off the streets.

Batman had shared what the Joker had told him with Gordon, but they both agreed to keep it a secret from the rest of the force and the public in general. 

They knew the peace wouldn't last, and it was better that everyone was a bit worried and on their guard now, than them letting down their guard only for something big happened later on.

"I know, Alfred but I just need to..." he clenched his fists and tried to calm the ranging anger that was always boiling under the surface. The need for violence lurking like a beast under his skin.

"...help... people," he finished. 

The words that escaped his lips tasted of lies. And as much as he wanted to deny it, helping people were the furthest from his mind at that moment.

'Am I really so far gone that I can't live without beating up criminals?' He thought to himself and swallowed heavily as he placed the mask over his face.

Lately he had started to wonder if the Joker might not have been right when he claimed he was insane, as much as he loathed to admit it. He also wondered if he should see a therapist, but he quickly pushed the idea away.

'And tell them... what? I dress up like a Bat and fight criminals to cope with the death of my parents, and I love beating people up in the process? Yeah... That'll go over really well. They'll be prepping a cell for me at Arkham, right next to the people I put there.'

He stifled a laugh at the thought. He knew most people wouldn't understand why he did this... Why he had to do this! But the city needed him. It really did! Regardless of his reasons for doing it.

And he wouldn't be of much use to anyone if they locked him up with the real lunatics just because they couldn't see that.

* * *

Ten days. Ten days since the Joker declared his crismass crime-free, and this was by far the lowest point in his entire career as Batman!

'Why am I even doing this?' Batman asked himself as his cape snagged on yet another tree-branch.

Just as he struggled to tug it loose, there was a flash of light hitting his eyes. He looked around, but he couldn't see anything out of the ordinary.

'Odd.'

Right... Because the old woman had begged him. That's why.

And because he had nothing better to do. 

There hadn't been so much as a case of jaywalking all night, never mind any real crimes...

"Here kitty-kitty-kitty," he tried, but the cat just hissed at him and clawed at his glove. G-d... He really hoped the damned cat hurt it's paw on his glove!

He gave the cat a death-glare, but the cat didn't even flinch. 

He really missed chasing down criminals. At least they feared his death glare, and never climbed any fucking trees!!!

He cursed under his breath as he crawled closer to the damned cat. It wasn't like it had anywhere to go...right?

Creak

Ooooooh, that was not a good sound!

The cat meowed and jumped off the branch, and scuttled quickly down to it's owner, just as the branch gave out under his weight.

Thud

Batman crashed down onto the hard, unwelcoming ground underneath him. 

It was still the middle of the winter, and at this time of year it didn't even matter if it was grass or asphalt, they were both equally unyielding and painful to hit. And his suit was built to stop blades and bullets, not cushion his fall from a damned tree-branch!

That said, it hurt his pride more than it hurt his body.

"Oh, thank you young man!" the old lady insisted as she watched him get up, cuddling her precious blob of a cat. Not so much as a helping hand.

"Oh, you should get something for your effort!"

"No need," he replied gruffly, not overly happy with being treated as a helpful teenager.

"Oh nonsense! It is crismass after all!" she fumbled through the pockets of her bathrobe before sticking something into his hand and closing his fist around...whatever it was... before he could protest.

"You're such a nice young man. Now make sure you go home and get some rest. It's not healthy to stay up so late, you know. And thank you for rescuing Muffy," she patted his armored arm firmly, before she vanished in the front door, talking to her cat as if he could understand her.

Batman sighed and opened his hand to see what the heck that crazy old woman had given him.

Should he feel bad that he kinda hoped it was a bomb? Or drugs? Please let it be drugs! He really wouldn't mind shaking down some drug-dealers right now. Anything but this!

He opened his hand and stared at it.

He sighed.

Candy. 

The kind you buy at the pharmacy when you have a sore throat.

Great. Just...great.

Suddenly he noticed the same flash of light as he had while he was climbing. Except this time he could place it. It was, after all, something he was intimately familiar with --just not as Batman.

A damned camera! Someone was taking pictures! 

....of him rescuing a cat.

How...humiliating.

Batman decided to call it a night. 

'I think there's a vintage scotch somewhere with my name on it...'

Hopefully, by tomorrow, he'd forgotten the whole damned nightmare!

* * *

"Who wanna watch people being killed by toys?!" the Joker grinned widely as he slammed the door shut after his little 'shopping' trip.

"Me! Me!" Jester yelled and crawled over the couch to get there.

Harley frowned and turned back to the dishes with a sigh. 

This place was so small they practically had to live on top of each-other, and Mr. J and Jester were somehow always shouting!

Mind you, she loved her baby boy, and Mr. J too, but there were times....

"What is it?!" Jester asked, his whole body vibrating with excitement.

"Krampus!" he held the DVD out towards his son that eagerly grabbed it to study the cover.

"Why don't you pop it in the video, and I'll fix the popcorn. Harley!"

"I'll fix the popcorn, Puddin'..." she said with a tight smile. She was sick and tired of cleaning up after him whenever he tried --and failed-- to make any kind of food. 

Hell... The other day he'd made a real mess just from making a simple sandwich. The day before that he burned water. And the pot it was in. It was just easier to cook for him herself.

Sometimes she wondered if he did it on purpose...

"Mom! When you're done, come watch the movie with us!" Jester said as he worked the remote for the DVD player and the TV.

"Of course, pumpkin," she said as she dried her hands on the kitchen towel and walked over to kiss his cute little head.

Really... Having a family with Mr. J. had been her life-long dream, but now that she had it she realized being a housewife wasn't all it was cracked up to be. At least not when your boyfriend's a semi-psychotic homicidal maniac obsessed with Batman, and he was teaching their son all the wrong things.

This was not how she had pictured it at all.

Five minutes later a huge box of popcorn drowned in salt and butter was placed on the table, and Harley could finally sit down and enjoying herself for once.

It did help her mood that her little baby-boy had climbed into her lap, claiming it was so he could comfort her if she got scared --by which she knew he meant she could comfort him.

It was strangely satisfying to have them both so dependent on her...even if it annoyed her to no end that she never received a lick of gratitude for all the hard work she did.

And Mr. J. would never let her into his bedroom, and hardly ever did so much as kiss her --it was nothing at all like when they first started to date. 

They'd both been madly in love back then. He had loved her every bit as much as she loved him, she knew he had!

Their first date he had been so romantic, and taken her for such a wild ride around town that she thought her head would never stop spinning, nor her heart stop racing. Even if Batman had crashed the party, even back then.

Sometimes she wondered what had happened. 

Her head felt foggy and she felt more disconnected than usual with reality... or at least whatever version of reality this was. Was she finally waking up?

She loved Mr. J. Both in the dream and in reality --wherever that was--, she just...knew it!

And she would do anything for her sweet little angel, even if it was killing all those other dream-people. There wasn't any real consequences in a dream, right? Right!

But this mad dream seemed to have gone on for too long, and she sometimes wished she could dream something else. Even just for a little while.*

But somehow, sitting on an old, half-broken love seat sofa with her kid in her lap and Mr. J. throwing them both popcorn to catch and eat while watching a crismass horror movie.... it all seemed worth it. 

Maybe, just maybe, she'd dream for a little longer.....

* * *

Bruce rubbed his head and sipped his coffee as he reached over for the daily newspaper Alfred had ironed and put out for him to read. 

Not that he expected much from it. 

Ever since the complete end to all crimes --however temporarily-- the news had been scrambling for anything and everything they could find, in lieu of any actual news. They even went so far as to print gossip and rumors some days.

Bruce had the mother of all hangovers after trying to forget last night's fiasco via a bottle or two of high class scotch, and the painkillers were not doing their job right!

His head felt like it was being used as a bongo drum, and his body was still sore from the fall yesterday. And it turned out the damned hell-cat had scratched his cheek too, something he hadn't noticed yesterday, but certainly was now. He just hoped it wouldn't get infected.

He vaguely contemplated the benefits of just going back to bed and sleep the day away, but it felt...wrong...to not do something. Even if there wasn't much he needed to do.

Maybe he should work out a bit. It had been a couple of days since he had last worked out, and Alfred had finally replaced the last punching-bag after the broke the last one. And the one before that. And the one before that. 

He'd lost track of how many he had broken since this whole debacle started. 

He just felt so...frustrated!

He flipped open the newspaper and took one look at the top story of the day, and promptly spit it out, soaking the paper in it.

"Batman chasing cats instead of criminals. Has our local hero spent too much time around the criminally insane?"

The bright, big letters of what the paper considered their top-story in lieu of any real news was something he had never wanting anyone to see... Ever!

So of course they had written about it, and put the worst possible spin on it! That was just his damnable luck these last few weeks!

The article itself was specked with a series of pictures of Batman climbing the tree, Batman crashing down from the tree, and Batman receiving candy from an old lady who beamed towards him with her cat in her hand.

She looked quite positively crazy, standing there in her bathrobe with unkempt hair and part of her saggy breasts showing. 

And he didn't look much better himself after the brush-in with the tree and then the full frontal collision with ground beneath it.

'That's it! I'm going back to bed! Nobody needs me anyway!'

* * *

Alfred stared at his master as he had once again forsaken the healthy meal he had prepared for him for coffee and whiskey.

He worried about him, he really did.

It was obvious that this lack of criminals to hunt down and --loath tho he was to say it-- beat up, had been rough on master Bruce.

It had been almost two weeks now, and there was still two more weeks to go. 

The fact that he was already this frazzled made Alfred worry about Bruce's mental health even more than he usually did.

Not that Bruce had ever had particularly healthy methods to cope with his problems. And there had been many times during his childhood he had wished he could set his foot down and say enough is enough. 

But Bruce had always been a headstrong boy, and he held such anger insider him after his parents death that Alfred just felt lost at how to properly deal with him sometimes. 

He was no good with children. He never had been. But he had tried his very best. 

He still did.

'Did I do something wrong when I raised him? Could I have done something different? Better?'

He had never had children himself, and he had no idea how to take care of them. He never expected he had to, as the Wayne's were very insistent on taking care of their own child, unlike some other wealthy people.

He still remembered the time when he had enabled Bruce to beat up a classmate for insulting his mother. Even adding a small threat himself at the end.*

It had seemed like the right thing to do back then --teaching the boy to stand up for himself, to not give in to bullies, to be strong... And, he had to admit, he was still grieving himself. That someone would dare to insult her memory was just...

Marta had been like a sister to him, and Thomas as close as a brother. 

The Wayne family had always been his own family, in many ways. Perhaps even more so than his real family.

He had been so sure it was the right thing to do back then. But right now now he was not quite so sure anymore...

Should he have put his foot down on Bruce's violent behavior? Forced him to see a therapist perhaps?

But his parents had left him clear instructions in case of their death, to let the boy choose his own way in life --he was a Wayne after all-- and Alfred had promised them he would, and he intended to honor that promise.*

But sometimes it was very difficult to do so.

Like right now...

"Are you... sure you don't want anything more...substantial... master Bruce?"

"Food makes me sick. Alfred, do we have more painkillers?"

"That is your third pack in less than a week, master Bruce," he said, furrowing his brow, but he handed him the painkillers non the less.

"I'm aware," he grumbled, before gulping the pills down with a drink that was more alcohol than it was coffee.

Afterwards he went back to perusing the newspapers in hope that maybe, just maybe there was a clue to some kind of crime that might take place. Maybe.

"Have you considered perhaps taking up a hobby, sir?"

"I have no time for such frivolities," he said, but he furrowed his brow even as he spoke. 

They were both aware that right now, especially with the company running smoothly without him and the directors insisting he take some time off --possibly because the last time he went to work he was still half drunk--, he really had nothing but time.

"No time..." he muttered, giving up on the pretense of reading the gossip rag and poured some more whiskey in his cup. 

Alfred sighed and left the kitchen with as much dignity as he entered it. He was quite sure master Bruce would prefer to be alone for a bit with his unhealthy habits.

It was mostly in the mornings, and on rough or exceptionally boring nights he was drinking like this, but Alfred still felt as if it was starting to to become a very bad habit.

Maybe he should call some of Bruce's friends or family to talk to him? Maybe they could talk some sense into him, even if he doubted it --given how headstrong master Bruce could be.

He pulled the phone out of his pocket and wondered which of them might be willing to come all the way to Gotham to see him...if they were not already living here.

In the end, it was a easy choice. It really was the closest thing Bruce had to a level-headed friend --which wasn't saying much.

"Good evening Master Richard."

* * *

It was now officially two and a half week into this irritating gift from his eternal nemesis, and Bruce was beginning to wonder if this might not have been a new --and better-- method for tormenting him. He wouldn't put it past the clown.

Bruce had woken up exceptionally late and poured some Irish Whiskey into his morning coffee, something that had become quite the habit as of late.

What he wanted to do was go back to sleep, after yet another miserable, failed night as Batman. But sadly that was not an option.

Today Bruce Wayne had to show his pretty playboy face on yet another charity event in the spirit of the holidays. 

And he really didn't want to! Not after what happened yesterday...

The entire day had been a fiasco, from one end to another. With one problem stacking on top of another, and every person who even opened their mouth had seemed to irritate him, no matter what they said!

It had started off much like today, followed by his own stupid insistence to drive to work. Alfred had tried to argue with him, but he hadn't had that much to drink, and he had felt the need to clear his head by taking the scenic route and just... driving.

So, okay, maybe he had been speeding... just a little. 

Thankfully the Gotham police was as corrupt as ever, and paying them off when they stopped him was easy.

He kinda hated himself for that. The cops too, for being so easy to buy. Everything in this city was rotten to the core, himself included.

He opened up the newspaper with some trepidation, knowing what was in there. What had to be in there. What he really wished wouldn't be in there!

But just like he had predicted, one of the first things he saw was his own drunken face plastered all over the front-page. And the following article must have taken up almost a third of the newspaper. G-d he despised this news drought! Had they really nothing better to write about?!

"Billionaire Playboy in Fist Fight"

Every pathetic looser out there dreamed of reading this kind of news, he was sure. 

To see the rich and famous brought low and dragged down to their level. 

To see them become... human. Just like them.

And he had enough enemies and competition that would love to see his reputation brought low because of his own, damned, stupid lack of self-control!

'At least nobody will suspect I am Batman,' he thought with a touch of gallows humor. 

He'd been too damned drunk to put up much of a fight, and had ended up with a black eye and nothing to show for it except some damned happy paparazzi and the worst newspaper article about him in years!

He sighed and pushed the irished up coffee aside. Suddenly it was far more appealing to just go back to sleep and wake up sometimes after new years.

It almost made him reconsider alcohol as a solution to his problems.... Almost.

He had realized something about himself lately. 

Something he had tried very hard to hide and deny, even if he had always known it, deep down.

He loved beating up the bad-guys. He loved, even needed that outlet for his ever-present anger.

Without it the anger would just build and build and build, until the pressure became too much and demanded a release!*

He feared that it wasn't just the bad-guys he loved to beat up...

Sometimes he felt like a ticking time bomb just waiting to blow up.

He let out a half-chocked laugh at the irony. 

He wanted to cry.

The Joker --along with most of the Gotham Villains-- had been trying to kill Batman for years. But what would kill him, was what should have been the nicest gift the psychotic clown could ever give him! The one thing he had wished for during his entire career as Batman! 

Gotham's safety. Even if only for a little while.

Peace and quiet, just knowing his city was finally safe.

That had always been his biggest wish! ...or so he had thought.

And Gotham was safe. At least for the moment. Completely free from crime and criminal activities of any kind.

Wasn't that what he had always wanted? What he had fought so hard for?

He had always thought it would make him happy... To see his beloved city safe from crime, even for just a few moments.

But it hit him that maybe, just maybe the Joker had been right all along...

Maybe he didn't know what he truly wanted...

Or maybe what he wanted, was not what he needed...

He threw the paper off the table and covered his face with his hands, leaning back.

'Great. Just great. Now I'm considering the possibility the Joker know what's best for me!'

Maybe he should just check himself in at Arkham right away. Because thinking the Joker --of all people-- knew what was best for him, was lunacy!

Bet the maniac would love that...'

* * *

Batman ran a frustrated hand through his lush hair as he stared at the computer screen for the umpteenth time that day.

Not only were there non of the bigger criminals he usually went after out, but even the small-fry seemed to have gone missing, and he had finally figured out why.

It would appear that the Penguin was running what seemed to be a free catering service for the poor and destitute of the city, so they wouldn't have to rob people to survive! Even the street-rats and children had been taken under his suddenly charitable wing!

Now the only question was why...

The Penguin loved money more than anything else, except perhaps for power. He never did anything for free! And Batman was convinced this was not something he would ever do.

And in what was an even stranger turn of events, nothing Batman could bribe or threaten him with got him to cough up any kind of information, which meant someone else definitely was behind this. Someone the Penguin was more scared of than Batman.

His thoughts immediately went to the green-haired man of most people's nightmares that had promised him a crime-free crismass. This scheme had the Joker's scent all over it!

The only problem was that Batman could not for the life of him figure out what the Joker could possibly hope to gain from this! 

He did recall the letter had claimed the clown was taking the advice of someone else, but he couldn't for the life of him think of a single person the Joker would listen too. It had to be a lie. 

And the thought that he was doing it to be nice, or out of the goodness of his heart were absolutely laughable!

No... The clown had some kind of scheme in mind. That much he was sure of. But what that scheme was....?

He rubbed his head, feeling a headache coming on.

Not only did he not know what the Joker was planning, but he now had to deal with whatever the clown could possibly have promised who-knows-how-many of the other Villains to keep them from causing problems during the holidays.

Not to mention the mess he'd surely had to clean up once they got back to being active, after being away for so long. Although, come to think of it, nobody had seen hide nor tail of either Poison Ivy or Mr. Freeze lately.... it was possible they had skipped town entirely.

But he'd spoken to the Justice League, and they hadn't seen them either, which just left him with even more questions.

However, come New Years all the criminals would surely be back in business, the Joker included.

And heaven's help him but he was looking forward to it!

* * *

"Ta-daa~" Joker said and pulled the covering off what looked a whole lot like a red sledge pulled by eight surprisingly realistic reindeer.

If Jester had looked closer, he would have noticed that it didn't actually hover slightly above the ground, but was standing on eight rather large --and well disguised-- wheels. 

Incidentally it was also controlled by an intricate system not unlike that which you used on normal reindeer, a.i. the Reins. He had to remember to thank the Riddler for that at some point. Maybe with a nice gift for the holidays...

"Did you steal Santa's sledge?!?!" Jester squealed in glee as he ran up to it.

"Yes... I stole Santa's very modern sledge and his eight robotic reindeer," the Joker replied deadpanned.

"Why is there a huge bag of gifts? I thought you told Batman that you wouldn't do any crime during crismas?"

"I know! And I won't! Promise!" Joker raised his hands, but Jester just raised an eyebrow at him.

"Really? And the gifts are just...what? Food for the homeless?" 

Oooh, the boy was getting good at sarcasm! The Joker wiped away an imaginary tear of pride.

"It's just cellphones! Nothing criminal about it! I even made sure to rob a bank before the holidays, just so I could buy them! Everything is perfectly legal and dandy!" he grinned widely.

"Is that why all the latest iPhones were all sold out all over town?" Jester said, trying to keep a straight face, but couldn't help but chuckle.

"Yepp," he said, rolling the p's.

"And, okay, so I may have started a bit early, but until I start the scheme properly after new years, nothing bad will happen at all. And it's not a crime to give the latest iPhone to every teenager in Gotham city!" he defended himself.

"...."

"I know that look! Listen, kid... I did what you suggested, and I know it's going to help Batsy realize that what he thinks he want isn't what he really want, but...." he sighed.

"I just wanted to give him a real gift," he admitted, crossing his arms and staring at the wall sullenly, like a teenager caught in doing something he shouldn't.

Jester couldn't help himself, but bursting out in laughter at the ridiculous pose his daddy was making. As if anyone could tell his daddy what to do, least of all him!

The Joker's mouth tugged up at the corner, and it wasn't long before he was laughing along with his son. They really did make a great team!

Even if Batman was the best Straight Man to their comedy duo, the kid wasn't... half-bad as a stand-in.

The Joker smiled and ruffled his son's hair.

Jester beamed and leaned into the touch, if a bit tentatively. He was still learning to trust that not all touches were meant to hurt him, but this... this felt good. 

"Alright kiddo! Gussy up! Our audience is a-waiting! And in showbiz appearance is everything!" he tossed a bag of green clothes, marked with 'Santa's Little Helper - Age 8-10', before pulling a far more professional looking, if well-used, Santa costume out of the costume storage, along with a couple of pillows to complete the look.

"Ready to spread some crismass cheer, kid?"

"Hell yes!!!"

"Now, in the spirit of the holidays we're going to re-enact one of the most beloved crismass carols of all time!" the Joker grinned as he picked up the reins. 

"Oooooh, which of them?! Is it your version of Jungle-bells? I mean, the crismass version, not the killing robins one."

"Close, but no cigar. It does involve reindeer, Santa and and an old lady tho~"

"Oh! I know!" Jester grinned as he scurried up onto the seat next to his daddy.

"Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer!" 

* * *

Selena struggles against the restraints, but to no avail. Not that she could have gotten far had she managed, as the Joker's men were stationed at every conceivable exit. He had clearly taken every possible precaution to ensure she could not escape him this time.

"Just get it over with! Kill me! See what I care!" she spat, hating how easily he had taken her down.

"Who says I want to kill you, kitten? No, no no," he paused.

"No, I just want to talk."

"You have a funny way of showing it."

"Well, I had to make sure my message would sink in, now wouldn't I? Would you prefer to be dead? Or maybe...skinned alive?" his green eyes were gleaming with malicious hatred, and it made her shiver in all the wrong ways. Like slime running down her back. 

All her senses told her to run, and run fast!

She shook her head quickly. She wasn't sure WHY he was keeping her alive, but it couldn't be for anything good.

He leaned over her and grabbed her cheek, tilting it upwards.

"No... I just came here to warn you. I want you out of town, and away from Batman. Forever!" he looked her straight in the eye, dead serious.

"If you never see him again, you get to live. If not..." the Joker stood up, a disturbingly wide grin stretched across his maliciously pale face.

"I guess we'll have to see just how many ways one can skin a cat! Ammaright boys?!" he spun on his heels, arms outreached, with a big grin on his face, and every single clown on his payroll laughed at the joke. 

"You chased me down and tied me up to tell me THAT?!"

"To be fair, I just wanted you to know how easy it was to catch you. Just in case you ever step foot back in this town," he flicked forth a blade and leaned the cold edge against her throat, making her sweat.

"You don't strike me as someone who'd put love over your own self-interest, but believe me when I say the Black Mask has nothing on me when it comes to torture. And if you set one little paw back in this town, or near Batman or his daytime Mask --and yes I know who it is--... Let's just say I will test each and every one of your nine lives until you beg me for death!"

Selina's eyes went wide as she realized the clown was serious about every word he had just said. 

She always knew she was bad news for Batman, but until now she hadn't realized that worked both ways. Batman had his own enemies... and crazy... well... crazies.

"I won't! I promise! I'll go somewhere else. It's a big world and plenty of other towns to steal from. It's not like I NEED Gotham anyway," she said, trying to play it cool. But her heart were hammering in her chest and her eyes were wide and filled with fear.

Her fear was like fine wine to the Joker, and he slid the knife down her throat, making her gulp and pray to a deity she didn't believe in.

Luckily for her the knife ended it's slow, tortuous trailing down her body to cut the ropes that were binding her to the chair. She did fear that it was blood, and not sweat, that was running down her neck, however. But thankfully not as much of it as she feared.

"Remember: Not a word! Not a hint or hide or hair from you anywhere near the Bat! Not even a message via a friend, or so much as a rumor! 

But, seeing as I am the generous man that I am, I'll let you write a short letter where you break up with him, here and now. And I'll deliver it for you, since I'm such a nice guy! 

But I don't ever want to see you anywhere near my darling Bats again! Ever!!!" he was screaming at this point, and she could do nothing but shrink back in fear. The madness that was always lurking in those acidic pits he called eyes had taken on a whole new level, and she could honestly not deny that it terrified her.

Far more than it had ever done before.

She was quick to agree, even if she honestly despised the idea of doing what he said.

She hated leaving Batman hanging like that as well, and she tried to match his own crazed glare with a hate-filled one of her own. But that relentless stare from the wide eyes with the most narrow pupils she had ever seen drilled into her and forced her to deal with the reality of the situation.

Her shoulders sank in defeat. 

He probably had Batman watched day and night, knowing the psycho. And her life was already in enough danger as it was.

She didn't mind taking a few risks. But there were risks...and there were stupidity.

And Catwoman might be many things, but stupid was not one of them.

If he knew Batman's identity, who's to say he didn't know hers too? And everyone she cared about... She wasn't stupid. She KNEW his M.O. And she knew she would be lucky if she got out of this mess with only a few scratches and a broken nose.

"Anyone got a pen?"

* * *

"Dear Bruce

This is something I've been meaning to do for a while, but I haven't found the right moment.

I'm sorry, but I don't think you're the right person for me. I need my freedom, and you can be a bit of a ball and chain sometimes, no offence."

He glared at the note.

"Offence taken," he muttered.

"This was fun while it lasted, but it's just not as fun as it used to be, and, well... For someone so rich, you can be a bit stingy, you know."

Was that all he was to her? Money and a cheap thrill?!

He felt angry tears welling up in his eyes, but he pushed them back, focusing on reading the rest of the letter.

"I just think there's someone out there better suited for me. And I truly hope you can find the perfect person I couldn't be for you."

Bruce felt his heart clenching painfully at each and every word.

He realized they had their problems, and that Selina could be pretty selfish sometimes. And he knew she needed her space and would sometimes run away. Chasing after her 'freedom.'

But he also thought she might have been the 'one'... as cliche as it sounded. Clearly she did not feel the same way.

"Tell Alfred I'm going to miss him and his cooking, and say goodbye for me will you? I don't think he liked me much, but he was nice about it,"

Bruce furrowed his brow in anger. She'd miss Alfred, but not him?! 

He wasn't sure what he felt right now, but it was painful. Horribly so.

"Well... We had a great ride, didn't we? Even if you did cramp my style a bit when I was working. But you let me go in the end, so it's all good.

And anyway, I got a better offer from a really nice, and totally rich guy, so I'm gonna skip town for a while, maybe forever.

Don't bother contacting me. I'm leaving my old life behind and I've gotten rid of everything that ties me to it, including my various means of contact.

Good luck with the rest of your life and your little crime-fighting gig.

Oh, and you might wanna do something about your new drinking problem. Don't think I haven't noticed, just because we haven't seen each-other lately.

I gotta go, my boat is about to come in.

Goodbye

\--Selina--" *

Bruce crushed the note in his hand, trying stoically to push back tears as he felt like his heart was breaking.

He wasn't sure which part of the letter that upset him the most, and he quite frankly didn't care!

However, he felt thoroughly insulted at the fact that she had referred to his life's work to protect this city as a 'little crime fighting gig'. As if it was some sort of Hobby, and not the very meaning of his life!

He knew that she was a thief, and that she didn't think violent crimes could ever be completely wiped out, but this?! 

How long had she thought all this?! How long had she been hiding all those....horrible thoughts she had about him?!

He stared at the bottle before grabbing it and throwing it at the wall, as if it somehow had mortally offended him. And maybe it had. Maybe his drinking had been the final straw for her. He almost wished he had never touched the stuff...now.

But then again, maybe it had all been for the best. He didn't like the thought of being strung along for another year, five years, ten years...however long she could be bothered, and find out about it when he finally popped the big question. Or maybe when he found her with another lover.

Then again... She did mention some other rich guy... Who clearly was less stingy than him.

He glared at the offending piece of paper, one last time, before throwing it into the fireplace.

She was right about one thing.

They were clearly ill suited for each-other.

* * *

~For the third week of xmass, santa gave to me....a hangover from too much whi-isk-ey~

This was not a good morning for one Bruce Wayne.

He had resorted to wearing sunglasses indoors, and had been forced to send Alfred to the store to stock up on scotch and buy even more painkillers... Not that they seemed to work anymore. He suspected he'd been building up a resistance to them. 

He took one look at the nutritious meal Alfred had put out on appetizing plates, and made a quick run for the sink. 

Wiping his mouth with his sleeve he decided to just grab his coffee and see if there was any Irish whiskey left. And then to find a place to sit where there was no smelly food to make his stomach do back-flips and grumble like a queasy bear in heat.

He looked at the half-empty bottle of whiskey in his hand and contemplated just downing the whole thing straight. Not having to deal with yet another shitty day in his shitty life in this shitty world seemed like one Hell of a good idea right now!

Of course, two and a half bottles later and he was beginning to wonder if he might not have built up an immunity to alcohol too. He certainly didn't feel drunk.

The doorbell rang, and since Alfred was still at the store, he stood up to open it himself.

"Woah!" he almost fell back into the chair, but quickly regained his balance, after knocking some knickknacks off the table he had used to catch himself on.

'Huh... Whatever... Alfred'll fix it.'

"I'm coming! I'm coming!" he shouted angrily when the doorbell kept on ringing. 

He pulled the door open and it slammed into the wall behind it. He hadn't meant to do that either.

"Dick?" he said, squinting against the horrible sunshine. "Come in."

"Bruce? What the hell?!"

" 's nothing. Just tired 's all," he said, though the words came out all slurry and wrong, which irritated him.

"What're 'u doing 'ere?"

"Alfred called. I was worried about you, Bruce! I haven't seen you since I invited you to come over for crismass. In fact, nobody has seen you since that shit you pulled on the Charity Gala! And don't deny it! I do read the papers!"

"Just 'ad tiny bit much to drink, 's all..." he scratched the mess that was his hair and leaned against the table, tilting vaguely to one side. Or maybe it was the room that was tilting. Hard to tell.

"From the looks of it, you've had a little to much to drink right now. And it's only..." she paused to check her watch.

"TEN am!"

"Just tir'd. Okay, maybe had a liiiiittle bit... Bu' 's not 'at much!" he protested.

"Bruce... You reek of alcohol! And when was the last time you showered?!"

"Shut up! I don't drink too much!" he said, standing up more or less straight.

"I didn't say you did. I just don't think you should be drinking right now! What would your mother have said?" Dick knew it was a low blow, but Bruce could be as stubborn as a mule sometimes. And he couldn't see anything else that might make Bruce think twice about his clearly toxic habits!

It was for his own good after all.

SMACK

"Don't EVER mention my mother!" Bruce punched him square in the jaw, before stomping away, leaving Dick alone to deal with the shock --and a substantial bruise that was slowly blooming on his cheek.

Bruce had never raised a hand against someone close to him before!

* * *

Bruce tried to calm himself as he poured himself another drink. Half of it seemed to be spilling all over the table, and when he put it down and looked at his hands, they were shaking.

He had to use every ounce of self-control he had left to not follow up that first punch with a second. And a third. And... And....

He heard the door slam shut, and he curled up in the chair, clutching his glass tightly. Even though all he wanted to do right now was to scream and shout and break every piece of furniture in the room. And maybe someone's bones.

'No. No!'

A single furious tear escaped his eye and tricked down his finely chiseled chin.

He knew he had problems! But he couldn't stand having people telling him what to do!

Especially someone who had no clue what was going on!

Not even Alfred could understand this. And not for lack of trying.

Bruce had tried his best to convince his butler to go see his own family, take a few days off and let Bruce get through what he had to... Honestly... He was worried he might end up hurting someone he cared about. That was the whole reason he hid away like he was doing right now.

'You are my family.' Alfred had said, placing his hands of Bruce's shoulder...just like he did back when Bruce was still a kid.

It was too much! It was too fucking much!!

The tears wouldn't let themselves be held back, anymore and he broke down sobbing. 

The crystal glass in his shaky hand clattered to the floor, spilling the sticky liquid inside it all over the expensive Brazilian walnut floor, breaking upon impact.

Alfred was disappointed in him, he knew that. But he had refused to leave, refused to give up on him.

In some ways, that hurt even more than if he had just condemned him.

Shame was a heavy burden to bear, and a father's disappointment even more so.

And even if he was not really his father, he was the one who had raised him. And Bruce...cared deeply about the old man. Butler or not.

But in times like this, he felt so very alone.

It felt like he was going crazy...or maybe he already was crazy... and no one around him could understand what he felt! No one!

An unwanted thought flashed into his head. 

There was someone who never judged him.

Who would always let him do what he needed, and what he wanted.

Someone, who paradoxically always had been there for him!

Whether he wanted him to or not.

He let himself fall back and let out a sad chuckle.

He really had to be out of his mind if he actually...missed... that psychotic bastard!

'I just miss beating him up,' he thought.

'Certainly has nothing to with... with...' 

Flashes of poison green eyes, pale marble skin, and those sinful, red lips flashed through his mind.

Somehow, for some reason, the Joker always made him feel better. Even if he also made him feel horrible for all those innocent lives lost.

No matter how horrible the world seemed, the clown had something optimistic to say about it. Some kind of joke or quip that would make Bruce feel better about things. Or at least would make him beat the clown until all the anger had drained out of him and he felt at peace again.

Sometimes he was even funny! As much as Bruce hated to admit it, and most certainly not to the clown!

But he knew he could always count on the madman to --somehow, mysteriously-- always show up whenever Bruce had been feeling angry, and tease him into letting go and beat the shit out of the green-haired bastard instead.

And no matter what he did to him, the Joker only laughed and edged him on. Tempting him to be as depraved as he was, yet someone managing to serve as his strongest anchor against what he did not want to become!

He still remember all those time the man had stopped him from killing someone. It was, in fact, disturbing just how many times he had come close to killing someone, only to have the Joker stop him just in the nick of time. One time the madman had even taken a blade through his hand to stop him!*

Come to think of it... The way the Joker always told him to kill him when he was starting to go too far was usually the very thing that cut through the red haze of violent need and allow him to regain control... Was he doing it on purpose?

And what was up with the damned flirting?! He blushed as he suddenly remembered that time when the cocky bastard had smacked his ass.*

Not to mention how he always managed to look and smell good, even if Bruce knew very well that the guy could sleep in a bed coated in fresh blood and not feel the least bit bothered by it.

So why did he even bother? It wasn't like he had anyone to impress, Harley was every bit as insane as he was!

...not that he seemed to care that much about her. Not anymore.

Normally that thought would have made him feel bad --it was his fault she had even met the Joker!* 

But this time he couldn't help but smile. Not because he was jealous... 'Absolutely not!' 

But because it made him think of the Joker... About their 'Dance'....

And wasn't that odd? He genuinely missed the biggest asshole in the whole damned universe!

Bruce couldn't help but let out a choked up laugh.

G-d... He clearly had some kind of unresolved issues, that's for sure!

* * *

"...and that's why you should always check who you're hitching a ride with before getting in the car! AHaHaHAHaHaHAHAHA!!!!" the Joker slapped his leg and looked away from the road to grin at his son for a moment.

"Haha, I wish I'd seen Robin's face when he discovered that!" Jester giggled. He loved his daddy's stories about all the times he played a joke on someone over the years.

"Well, I'd say..." his sentence broke off as the car hit a something and the Joker quickly pulled the sledge to a stop.

"Oh my g-d! Did you see it?! That poor man! He ran right in front of me!" he said with a grin and faux concern on his face. His hands touching his face in a gesture of shock.

"We'd better back up and help him!" Jester gasped dramatically and mimicked his dad. 

The Joker maneuvered the not-quite-a-sledge in reverse, and drove it straight over the fallen man while laughing like a maniac.

"We still haven't hit any old women tho... And technically it doesn't count unless the reindeer kills her either," Jester proclaims, trying to keep a straight face and failing miserably as his face contracted into his ever-present grin while his acid-green eyes shone with mirth.

"Well, better correct that then! Tell me when you spot an old lady!" the Joker laughed and whipped the reins controlling their reindeer's speed to make speed forward at a speed that could not possibly be considered safe.

Jester cast a quick glance back at the man they ran over, and quickly pushed away the slight sting of guilt that crept up on him with a mad laughter.

Life's a bitch and then you die. It doesn't give a shit about who you are or what you deserve.

And yet for some reason, most humans pretend it matters. And that there is some sort of cosmic karma, or that their changeable morals somehow mean something when it really doesn't!

As if life can be controlled, when in reality you could just as easily be run over by two guys dressed up as Santa and his little helper on your way to what you thought was a safe and secure job. One that didn't pay much now, but would have made you rich in five to ten years.

If if you had five to ten years. Something this guy did not have. Not anymore.

It really was funny!

"AHaHaHAHaHaHAHAHA!!!!"

* * *

Batman turned to scan the area around him for the fifteenth time that night.

He felt the hair standing on the back of his neck, and his well-developed instincts screamed of danger. Like he was being stalked by some dangerous predator.

Someone was watching him! He knew it! He could feel it!

But no matter where he turned, or how casual and careful he looked for it, he could never catch anyone watching.

Not even the infra-red camera in his mask caught anyone, except the people who most likely lived in the buildings.

And nobody ever attacked him. The cold winter night was as silent and calm as ever.

And yet....

Every single night now for the past week --or maybe even longer-- He had felt that... Presence!

But he could never see anyone. Or anything. Not so much as a cat!

He was vaguely beginning to think that the alcohol had made him paranoid. Maybe he shouldn't have brought a bottle with him while he was at work.

He put the almost-empty bottle down on the rooftop. determined to leave it behind.

* * *

"Oh, my poor, poor darling~" Joker lamented as he watched Batman go about his nightly routine through his handy binoculars.

Batman's reflexes were not at all like they used to be, and he seemed to be slightly unsteady on his feet. There was even something about him that looked like he might have some trouble focusing, or walking in a straight line... It was nearly invisible, and would have looked perfectly normal for everyone else, but Joker knew Batman inside and out, and he lacked his usual ease of movement.

"Oh, Batsy... You didn't..." the Joker said and sighed at the sad sight that was his darling Bat.

But he had. He must have!

The Joker felt his heart ache at the sorry state his sweet Bat was in, and he was sorely tempted to step in and give him what he knew he needed right now.

But his son's voice kept ringing in his ears, and he knew this had to happen. It was the only way to make the stubborn, stubborn man realize just how much he needed the Joker!

'It's okay. He's a big boy. A big drunk boy. But he can still take care of himself. I'll step in if it looks like he's going to hurt himself, but not a moment sooner!' 

The Joker nodded to himself and replaced the binoculars with a state-of-the-art camera of the type paparazzi's used, and snapped a few pictures for his ever-growing collection.

Poor, poor Batman. He needed him so much, and he didn't even know it.

Well, that was going to change! Joker was going to show him just how much he needed him! And how he could only ever rely on him and nobody else!

That damned kitty-cat had tried to sink her claws in his Bat, even though she was clearly wrong for him! So why couldn't he see it?! 

But that's okay. He took care of the cat-problem. Sent her far, far away, and --thanks to a helpful expert in the field of forgery-- ensured that even if she came back, his darling Bats would never accept her in his life again!

Honestly he had wanted to kill her and be done with it. But on the off-chance Batman found out about that whole debacle later on.... 

Oh, he was sure his dear Batsy would forgive him for his little deception --once he had opened his eyes to what he really needed. He doubted he'd thank him, but that was okay. He didn't need to. Joker knew that he would be grateful, deep down. Batsy just had problems expressing his feelings.

But he had feared that if he killed the damned cat, Batman might not be quite so forgiving.

Oh, he moaned and whined whenever the Joker killed innocent people. But at the end of the day they were just a bunch of strangers whom he cared nothing for. It was only his guilt talking.

But if Joker had killed someone he knew, someone he cared for... his darling Bat would have a much harder time forgiving that! He was still upset about Jason.

Still... It had to be done. He had no choice but to get rid of her, and then forge that letter from her, using the sample of her handwriting she so willingly provided. 

He didn't like hurting his beloved Bat, but it was sadly necessary. 

Tough Love, wasn't that what people called it?

In the end it had been for the best. Maybe next time some floozy tried to sink her claws into his Bats, his darling would think twice about trusting them!

It might hurt him now, but that pain wouldn't last too long. He would see to that.

He'd comfort his bat in ways no other person on this entire planet could possibly do!

They had something special, the two of them. A very special bond. They understood each-other. Batman might be the only person who truly got him, and vice versa.

They belonged together, like Romeo and Juliet. Batman was his destiny, just as the Joker was Batman's. They were soulmates!

And that's how he knew his darling Bat wouldn't have to suffer too long. He'd be there every step of the way, making sure his sweetheart finally made all the right decisions. He clearly wasn't very good at taking care of himself.

But that's okay. Because the Joker didn't mind taking care of his big, strong, brilliant man. And he always knew exactly what he needed!

"Don't worry sweetlums~ Nurse Joker is gonna heal aaaall your pains and give you that shot of the god old fashioned ultra violence that you so desperately need~ Just hang in there a liiiittle bit longer~"

Batman turned his head, and the Joker quickly ducked down behind the ledge of the building, using a hand-held mirror to keep a track of his darling Bat's movements while he was hiding. The ice-packed suit he'd covered himself with only hid him from the infrared visor camera, he had to use stealth to hide from those pretty baby-blue eyes.

"Soon, baby... Soon."

* * *

Batman had been in his gym for the last six hours, and had been forced to replace the punching-bag twice during that time.

It was a feeble attempt to direct his anger at something more productive, and burn away the frustrated rage that had been bubbling under the surface for such a long time that he could barely remember ever being without it.

It might not be the healthiest way to pass time --one look at his bruised knuckles could tell you that-- but it was certainly healthier than spending his days drinking heavily and risk hurting someone else he cared about in the process.

Well, okay... So he might have printed out the face of a certain green-haired clown and glued it to the bag, but even Alfred thought that was a normal desire.

It was the way he had ended up talking to it when he was resting up before having another go at punching the living daylight out of it was was starting to truly disturb him. Partly because he felt as if he was talking more to the picture than the bag of sand.

But he had some things he needed to get off his chest. And he adamantly refused to talk to anyone else about it! It was bad enough admitting these things to himself. It would be infinitely worse if someone other than himself knew about it!

...and it wasn't like his punching-bag would ever tell anyone.

He chose to not to dwell on whether that last thought referred to the punching-bag Joker next to him... or the real Joker...

There was also the rather disturbing progression where he would somehow end up arguing with the damned punching-bag. It was usually followed up by a new round of punching the bag until it either broke, or he tired himself out enough to take a break, before the whole process would repeat itself all over again.

"--so I hit him. I know, I know. You don't mind, and you would probably encourage it, but you don't get it! It's wrong! And he's my friend! My son! I've already lost too many people in my life.... I just... I can't..."

He put his head in his hand and groaned, and not for the first time considered if maybe alcohol was a better solution to his problems after all. 

At least when was drunk he didn't think so much, or worry about shit he couldn't change.

He took another sip of water before tossing it aside and walking over to grab the bottle of whiskey he had hid there earlier... just in case.

He took more than a few sips before he went back to his one-sided discussion.

"Uh-huh?" he vaguely looked like he was listening to something for a second, but really... It was just his own thoughts. Although they just sounded strangely similar to the Joker's voice right now. Must be the whiskey.

"--yeah, right! He'll hate me now!"

"Shut up! Just shut up! We're nothing alike!" 

* * *

Alfred glanced over at his master on the security monitor and furrowed his brow. There wasn't any sound, but he didn't need sound to see what was going on. It was as clear as day.

Master Bruce had been talking to himself more than a little these last few days. Ever since that...incident with his adopted son had happened.

It was obvious that Bruce regretted the whole thing, but he was too stubborn to apologize, and by doing so, admit he might have needed help.

And from what Master Richard had told Alfred, he was not entirely sure if it would help him any to see any more of his friends either. 

Those few he had were pretty hot-headed themselves, and what Bruce needed was someone calm who could deal with all the pent-up anger he was currently dealing with, in a healthy way.

What he truly needed was a therapist, but Bruce had adamantly refused to see one, and Alfred wouldn't push the topic. His hands were tied.

He supposed that until the city's criminals went back to business as usual --he wasn't delusional enough to think this peace would last-- maybe it was better if Bruce talked to himself and punched a bag full of sand. 

...With the face of his worst enemy on.

And for his own sanity's sake he refused to dwell on the fact that it sometimes looked as if Bruce was talking to the sandbag.... or worse still, the Joker!

* * *

"Tell us what you saw."

"I, uh... There was this big, fat guy. In a red suit. And this little guy. In a green suit. With them funny pointy ears on and green hair,"

"...pointy ears..?"

"Yeah! And, uh, they were riding in a... in a sledge, right? And the thing was, uh... was floating, right? And it had lots of 'em adult bambies drawing 'em!"

"...do you mean reindeer?"

"Yeah! 'at's the ones! Oh, and they had this biiiiig sack o' gifts in the back! Must 'av weight a TON!"

"...you said you were drinking, right?"

"Well, yeah, but I saw what I saw! I ain't crazy like sum of them other bums!"

A knock came on the door and the commissioner was waved out, leaving the old hobo alone with nothing but a bagel and a cup of coffee for company. Although from the skeptical look of the hobo he had clearly hoped for something more alcoholic in his cup.

"I'm sad to say... I don't think he is crazy," the officer said, holding out a stack of reports.

"He's not the first to see an old lady being run over by what has been unanimously described as 'Santa and his Little Helper.' The newspapers are already knocking on our front door to get more news on what they dubbed "Hit and Run Santa".

"Great... Just... great," he pinched the top of his nose, "I need more coffee to deal with this shit," Gordon said as he tried to come up with what to do next.

"Put a lid on the press, first of all! Let's try and have a nice, quiet crismass for once," he looked over at the hobo in the room next door.

"Actually... Tell the press that as long as they accurately site the source, including the fact that he's a drunken bum, they can have the whoooole story from a first hand witness,"

Gordon looked a little too gleeful at pulling one over at the press, and it didn't take long before ever other cop in the room followed his example. The press was not very popular with Gotham's Police force, for more than one reason.

This, however, was perfect!

The press got their story, and the police didn't look like the bunch of idiots that the press usually portrayed them as when they were too tight-lipped about a case. 

It was a win-win, really. 

And Gordon sincerely doubted a hit-and-run event like this would repeat itself. These things rarely did.

He considered if it was worth calling in Batman, who had sounded desperate for something to do last time they spoke, but...

The police could investigate it much better without anyone --and that included the clearly drunken Batman-- pissing all over the crime-scene.

* * *

Selina knocked at the wall of her new prison, vaguely wondering about just how long it would take for someone to hear her and --hopefully-- let her out of the caged in box she was currently stuck in.

"Hello? Anyone out there?!"

She didn't think she would starve. The Joker had, strangely enough, been courteous to poke a few holes in the book --on the condition she kept her mouth shut until they were well and truly out at sea-- and had even tossed in dried food and water enough to keep her from dying anytime soon.

That was in and of itself not really a problem. And it wasn't the first time she had spend considerable time in a cramped space either.

Now... it was the fact that he clearly had not taken into consideration the...problems... with having no bathroom access in a tiny, cramped space. Especially for a woman.

...or maybe that was by design. You never really knew with that particular brand of crazy.

She sighed and leaned back against the wall.

She supposed she was lucky to still be alive. She wouldn't put it past the homicidal clown to kill her anyway, even if he had promised her her life and freedom if she just wrote that damned breakup letter.

She had tried her best to spare Bruce's feelings, and she could only hope he understood and wasn't too mad at her. 

She had tried her best to make it sound like circumstances was forcing her them apart, and strangely enough the clown had allowed her that. Maybe he didn't want Bruce to be hurt either? 

She knew for a fact that the clown truly did love Batman --disturbing as that thought was. But she had always thought he was too much in denial about it to actually do something about it!

And now that he had, she was acting even weirder than usual. It was creepy to say the least.

She only wished she knew why he let her live...

She shook her head. The man was insane! It would be pointless to try and understand why he did anything.

He had put his foot down on her saying she still loved Bruce, but that was something she had expected. 

...Actually, it would have been damned suspicious if he hadn't, now that she thought about it. He seemed incredibly possessive about Batman. Kinda reminded her of one of those creepy stalkers.

But she had at least been allowed to say she'd always remember him fondly, so that was something....

Not that she thought she could ever see him again, unless that psycho clown died or something!

Heck, the fucking psycho was probably tapping Bruce's phone and watching his mail and home 24/7. It wouldn't surprise her if she someday learned he actually was a stalker. 

She shuddered at the thought. 

She felt a bit guilty for leaving Bruce to deal with the clown on his own, but what choice did she have? She felt sure that she would only end up endangering both their lives if she had tried to stay, or if she tried to go back or contact Bruce again, once she hit shore and got off this damned boat to... where-ever the psychopath had shipped her!

And she wasn't nearly suicidal enough to take out a contract on his head either! 

He was almost guaranteed to hear about it. And Selena was not at his level as a fighter, even if she could protect herself from most guys.

Besides... The prospects of being locked in a room naked with Killer Croc and Bane was not a prospect she would enjoy. And for all his faults, the psychotic clown always kept his promises. At least when what he promised was death or destruction.

Suddenly she heard voices that seemed to come closer and nearly cried in relief.

Her bladder had felt like it was about to explode for the last two hours or so, and she really didn't like the idea of sitting in a pool of her own piss.

"Jì zhù kèhù suǒ shuō dehuà. Zhídào wén dào xiǎobiàn, wǒmen cái ràng tā chūqù, hǎo ma?" *

"Wǒ zhīdào. Wǒ zhīdào."

'Chinese. Great. The one language I don't speak.'

* * *

"Jingle Bells, Batman smells, Robin laid an egg~" Jester grinned as he sang.

"The Batmobil lost it's wheel, and Joker got awa-ah-ayy~ AhaHaHAhAHAHA!!" Joker ended the song with his typical mad laughter.

"That was great, Mr. J, Jester!" Harley clapped her hands together excitedly while still holding her gun, before pointing it back at the terrified children and their parents.

"He sees you when you're sleeping~"

"I know when you're awake~"

"He knows if you've been bad or good....~"

"So be mad, for madness sake!"

The Joker kicked at one of the kids.

"How about some applause here? Don't your like our caroling?!"

The kids whimpered, but their parents were quickly start applauding and told their children to do the same. They hesitated, but followed their parents example quickly enough.

"Thank you! Thank you! We're here all week!" the Joker stood and took a bow.

"Well, strictly speaking we promised to meet Eddie in, like, ten minutes,"

"Huh. Whaddaja know... You're right!" Joker said, looking at his pocket-watch.

"Well... Looks like we're gonna have to cut our playtime here short," he said, and the hostages looked relieved, clearly thinking their nightmare would finally come to an end.

"So should we kill them, Mr. J?"

"Duknow... Ask the kid!"

"Oh! Why don't we have them vote for which one should die, and then we..." he leaned over to whisper in his daddy's ear.*

The family shuddered as they watched that unnaturally wicked grin stretch even further, until it seemed like it reached from ear to ear, like a monstrous, feral beast.

The maniacal laughter that followed the suggestion did not make the impression any better. 

There was nothing nice about it. Nothing nice at all.

* * *

"Um, dad...." Jester said as he washed the blood of his hands.

"What?" the Joker dried his now clean hands on the family's kitchen-towel.

"We totally forgot about the Bat-gift..."

"Shit!" Joker face-palmed and suddenly looked deeply disturbed. It had been a very long time since he'd broken a promise to the Bat, and he didn't want to start now.

"Quick Harley! Find their basement and see if you can find a shovel! If we're careful, we might be able to bury them in the backyard, and they won't thaw out until at least March!"

He neglected to mention that the ground was probably hard as rock. It would do her good to get some proper exercise. And since they'd freeze anyway, the smell wouldn't alert the neighbors until they thawed out again.

"Yes Mr. J!"

"Oh, and kiddo... I know we said we were going to spare that kid in there, but...."

"I know, I know," Harry sighed and loaded his gun, "No witnesses."

"Remember the silencer!"

* * *

Bruce woke up much later than he would normally have allowed himself to sleep in. 

The sun that usually was let in by Alfred in the mornings was blissfully missing --no doubt the old man had taken pity on him after he almost passed out drunk on the living-room floor yesterday. He was thankful for that. And a little embarrassed.

He sat up in the bed and grabbed the glass of water and the painkillers from his bedside table, and quickly swallowed them down. With some luck a double amount would at least do something.

His nose crinkled at the stale smell that followed him as he got up, and he was wondering how long it had been since last time he had taken a shower, never mind changed his clothes.

Alfred must have felt the same way, because there was a new set of clothes laid out for him on the chair, with a towel on top of it. 

Bruce couldn't help but smile. 

Alfred could be a bit passive-aggressive sometimes in his own, polite butler kind of way. 

He groaned as he got to his feets and grabbed the towel to head for the bathroom.

Hopefully he'd feel better after a nice shower and maybe something very, very light for breakfast... like a salad.

He made a point to glare at the half-empty bottle of scotch that was sitting innocently next to his bedside table. He wondered if he had tossed it somewhere and Alfred had picked it up for him, or if he really had placed it there himself.

He honestly couldn't remember.

* * *

"Good to see up and about, Master Bruce. Will you be having breakfast today, or do you prefer it irish?" Bruce could hear the sarcasm in his voice, even when it was barely audible.

"Maybe a light salad," he said, before sitting down at the table. 

He picked up the newspaper and tried to pretend as if he hadn't take up a very bad habit of drinking away his days now that he had absolutely nothing better to do, to stave of an even worse habit.

He had made a decision to stay more or less sober today --it was crismass after all-- but he wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad idea. He knew he was prone to violent outbursts from time to time, and he was absolutely terrified of hurting Alfred.

He didn't want to. And thankfully the butler never pressed any of his buttons. 

'Not like Barbera or Dick...'

But he still felt uncomfortable with taking that risk. His self-control was good, but there were times when he feared it might be slipping. Times when he could feel the monster inside him clawing at it's cage to be let out. Nearly breaking free, no matter what he did!

Thankfully, this didn't feel like one of those days. Not so far at least.

He had always liked the idea of crismass, but he had never really had time to celebrate it. 

Not without one of his adopted children insisting on it at least. 

He smiled fondly at the memory of the last time that had happened.

But it always felt a bit...selfish... to take a break from fighting crime when he knew that the criminals would not stop their crime-spree on account of the holidays. And the Joker had the worst tendency to time his plots for crismass himself.

Bruce couldn't tell if the clown hated crismass, or loved it.

Either way he always ended up endangering the city somewhere around crismass-time if he was out of Arkham.

Come to think of it, he'd spent more crismasses with the various villain gallery of Gotham than he had with his family. But he still treasured those few moments when he had.

He sighed as he put down the paper again.

This year would be... strange.

He'd never really been alone for crismass before, come to think of it.

Dick had moved all the way out to Bluthaven. And Jason was...was... Well, he was gone. Permanently.

Bruce stood up and pushed the thoughts aside. He didn't want to think about it anymore! It was too painful!

And with Barbra and Dick avoiding him --not that he blamed them-- and Selina's hurtful breakup-letter... No. Just no!

"Alfred," he said, and the butler paused in his preparation of Bruce's breakfast to look at him.

"Yes, Master Bruce?"

"Could you... Just for today... Could you..." he waved his hand towards the empty chair across the table from him.

"It's rather improper, isn't it, sir?" Alfred said, but there was a warm kindness and slight amusement in his voice that indicated that he would do it anyway. It warmed Bruce's heart.

Bruce smiled. Alfred was one of the only two people he knew that always seemed to know exactly what he meant, even when he wasn't saying it.

Then again, Alfred had raised him since he was a child. He was his oldest, and best friend. Almost like a father to him --not that either of them would ever admit it.

Strangely enough, the other one was the Joker. 

He supposed being enemies for as long as they had been gave them some kind of strange understanding or something... He could always read the Joker too. At least to the degree anyone could. 

There were still a few things that mystified him about the clown. Usually things that had to do with the clown's behavior towards him.

However, non of his other enemies could read him like that. And some of them had been fighting him equally as long, maybe even longer, than the Joker had. But only the Joker understood him, as if he was inside his head... 

And wasn't that strange?

Of course, he refused to accept that some of the thing the madman said was true. And the man spouted nonsense and lies the way other people breathed air, but still...

"Here you go, sir," Alfred said, breaking him out of his uncomfortable thoughts.

"Thank you, Alfred," he said, and smiled when the old man sat down in the chair in front of him, picking up the discarded newspaper with an amused gleam in his eye.

Bruce carefully chewed on his not-too-nauseating meal and tried to not think about all the people who wasn't there. At least Alfred was, and that was really the most important thing.

And he absolutely didn't miss Selina. At all!

And he wasn't lonely! Absolutely not! He did just fine on his own.

He didn't need someone to wake up with, or have breakfast with. Or fight and make up with. Or cuddle up to in front of the fireplace when it got cold.

He didn't need anyone. Not. At. All!

Batman had no need for other people, and Bruce had Alfred. That was enough.

...right?

* * *

Jester unwrapped his gift and stared at it.

It was a nice-looking jester doll that looked a whole lot like his dad, and it was drumming away on a tiny little drum. It was adorable!*

"And don't forget, this is only half your gift. You'll get the other half after new years!" Joker grinned and ruffled his son's hair in a gesture of affection. He was in a good mood today. Or, at least right now.

"Thank you dad!" Jester grinned and hugged him.

"Just keep him with you everywhere okay? He'll keep an eye on you and make sure you're safe!" the Joker proclaimed with a wide grin. 

One which Jester happily returned, before diving under the tree to pick up his gift for his daddy.

"Here dad! This is for you," Jester said and handed him the gift.

The Joker wasted no time before tearing off the gift-wrappings like an exited child, only to stop and stare at it in awe when he finally got into to the box underneath it.

"I've been looking for this forever! Where on earth did you find it?!?!" the Joker breathed out, staring at the limited edition, vintage Batman figurine in his hand.

He smiled fondly and stroked his finger down Batman's cheek, before gently placing it on the table so he could wrestle his son into one of his rarely given hugs.

"Thank you," he said, and he sounded sincere.

Jester blushed with joy over managing to get his dad something good enough that he actually said 'thank you'. Those words were not something the Joker spoke often, if ever. So he knew he had managed to make his daddy very, very happy. 

He loved the warm feeling of his dad's approval, and felt a great sensation of pride well up in him.

"I stole it from a pair of geeks that apparently moved here from California. Had a room full of all kinds of all kinds of toys, even tho he's like... almost as old as you and mom!" *

Harley was torn between scoff at the stupid Batman toy, and awww at how her little baby boy puffed up his chest in such an obvious display of pride.

She decided to let it go for now, and get on to her part of the gift exchange.

She held out a gift the size of a shoe-box and watched eagerly as her son tore the wrapping-paper of it.

Jester pulled the lid of the box and gasped in delight as he saw the contents.

"My own personalized gun?!" he squealed, and proceeded to remove it from its box.

The gun itself looked to be a Beretta of some kind, although it was hard to tell.

The base-color for the entire gun was a brilliant purple, but the trigger and a beautiful gold-leaf pattern on the barrel was painted in green. The handle had a green plate covering the majorety of it, with a red and black jester head that looked like it had been made out of metal decorating the middle.

It was very clearly a real gun, but it could easily have been mistaken for a toy-gun. 

Jester loved it!

"Aaaand my babies gets the yummiest yum-bones! Yes they do~ Yes they doo~" Harley cooed her pet hyenas in a baby-voice as she gave them their treats.

"And for Mr. J~" she giggled and wiggled back and forth like an exited school girl.

"You're gettin' a very special present later~" she walked her fingers up the Joker's shirt in a teasing fashion and licked her lips in what she thought was a seductive way.

To the Joker it just looked more like she was two steps away from drooling over a juicy steak.

"When we're alone~" the over-dramatic wink and following giggle did nothing to endear her to him either.

'In other words, she's gonna dress up like a cheap hooker and try to lure me into bed. Again. She has no imagination!' 

He dragged his hand down his face and held back a sigh. What did he ever see in her again?

There had been a time when he could have answered that question in a second, but right now he was coming up blank. 

Sometimes he wondered why he even kept her around. Practicality maybe. But he wasn't entirely sure what she did was nearly enough to justify putting up with all her crap.

But whenever he considered getting rid of her --permanently-- something inside him rebelled against the thought. 

Which was strange, really. He'd never had any problems with killing people before. Or just shipping her to china or something. No... That wouldn't work. He tried shooting her into space and she still came back, somehow. Killing her was the only solution.

But whenever he tried, he just... couldn't get himself to do it. It was weird.

Maybe it was something lingering from when he did love her? 

Maybe it just was a sense that she belonged to him? 

He refused to believe that he was afraid of loosing her or some such nonsense. And he sincerely doubted he cared about her in the slightest anymore.

It really was a mystery.

* * *

Bruce had finished putting on the suit Alfred had put out for him and was headed towards the room that normally functioned as his living-room, but that had now had a table included for a more private crismass breakfast --seeing as it would be just the two of them.

He felt that dressing up for such a casual celebration was a little foolish, but Alfred insisted it was tradition, and Bruce so no reason to argue over something so small. He was used to all the stupid, pointless social niceties he had to endure by now, and he supposed it wouldn't make much difference if he for once adhered to them at home. Just for today.

As he stepped into the room, the first thing he noticed was the tastefully decorated crismass tree, complete with candy-canes and baubles that probably cost more than the average man's monthly paycheck.

"The tree looks beautiful this year, Alfred," he said as a way of greeting, smiling at his old butler and friend who was already there and waiting for him.

"I'm glad you like it, sir," he replied. As usual he would never take credit for any of his work, but the proud smile showed that he was happy about the subtle compliment.

Personally Bruce found all these luxuries to be a bit... pointless... But he had to admit the house was really rather nice and cozy, with the fireplace and the traditional decoration that Alfred probably spent a whole week to prepare for the holidays, while Bruce was too busy moping around to notice.

"Would you like some eggnog, sir?" Alfred decided he might as well indulge Bruce's habit just for this one day... and then make sure that he didn't drink too much.

"That would be fine. Thank you Alfred," he said and smiled as he sat down on the couch and turned on the TV.

It was still a far early for dinner to be served, so he had decided to have it for breakfast instead, seeing as he had plans to go patrolling tonight as well.

It didn't matter if it was pointless or not. If something happened, and he was not there, he'd never forgive himself.

Plus, the Joker was free, and he almost always did something for crismass. And usually that meant someone got killed, or the town threatened, or something like that.

He felt a bit bad when he realized that the Joker getting up to mischief was something he wanted more than any other crismass gift he had ever received.

'I just miss the thrill of chasing down bad-guys and putting them away. Nothing more.'

He would hardly be the first rich kid who had ended up being a thrill-seeker. 

And as much as he disliked that label, it still felt better to name himself that than something more... violent and sick.

Then again, he supposed most rich boys didn't exactly put on a Batsuit and beat up criminals every night. He almost laughed at that, but settled for quirking his lips up a little.

"Do you wish to have your breakfast at the dining table or here?" Alfred asked him, although he suspected he knew the answer.

"I think I'll take it here," he said and changed chancels until he found one that always seemed to show A Miracle on 34th Street, just in time for a late breakfast.

Bruce wasn't big big on watching TV shows, but he did enjoy some of the classics for crismass. It might have been Alfred's influence, now that he thought about it.

And Miracle of 34th street was his favorite. He always felt it was a nice message of hope that even a normal man could become someone extraordinary, to be who he wanted to be, and to help people.

Of course, when the scene were he was framed and locked up in a psych ward came up, his mind couldn't help but drift to the Joker. But only because he was worried what he might get up to of course.

After all... It would be the perfect day to hit Gotham with something big, especially if he thought that Batman might have let his guard down. Especially with the letter and the recent complete lack of crime.

"Your breakfast, sir," Alfred placed down the plate in front of him.

"Thank you Alfred," he paused, "Join me?"

"As you wish, master Bruce," he said, amusement shining in his eyes.

It was rather nice to at least have someone to share the day with, but Bruce had to admit it just wasn't the same as having his family or friends over.

As much as he cared about Alfred there was always this...distance... between them.

Even if Bruce didn't mind acting casual, Alfred was always formal to a fault and never forgot that he was his servant.

It was a commendable trait in a butler of course, but it did non the less make Bruce feel a little bit alone in it all. Even at times like this when Alfred did his best to humor him and cheer him up.

Once the breakfast and the movie had finished, they moved over to the pile of gifts.

Alfred put on the red Santa cap and proceeded to read out every single gift, and read to Bruce who they were from before handing them over to him.

"This one is from Barbra, sir," he said, making a note in his notebook, so Bruce would know who he needed to thank for what.

"Thank you," he repeated as he accepted it, but he just stared at it, then looked over at the small pile under the tree.

He suddenly felt guilty over how he had been acting lately, as well as for not getting them anything.

"Sir?" Alfred inquired.

"I didn't get them anything...."

"Don't worry, sir. As you were ...preoccupied.. I decided it would be for the best to get all of them something nice in your name. They all got their gifts delivered yesterday."

"Thank you Alfred," he smiled at his butler. And he was grateful, he was!

But that didn't make him feel any better. Not one bit.

"I think I'd like some more eggnog," he said, before starting to open the gifts, hoping that nobody had gotten him anything too nice, which would only make him feel even worse.

"Of course master Bruce,"

* * *

"Knock it off! Knock. It. OFF!!!" Harley shouted as she felt yet another ball of gift-wrapping hit her head as she was removing the chili-stuffed turkey from the oven.

"Good shot kid!" the Joker high-fived his son, "You get to do the funny voice when we watch Miracle on 34th Street!" he ruffled his hair.

"Yay!"

"And don't encourage him!"

All she got in return was more laughter. Of course it was. Why would she think anyone would ever take her serious in this household? 

She sighed as she pulled the oven-mitts off her hands to rub her forehead. She could feel a headache coming on.

She could remember a time when she still thought his antics and jokes were charming. But back then he had also paid more attention to her, and done nice things like stealing faux fur-coats and jewels for her.

"Oh! Oh! Can we see the cool, new version of A Crismass Carol too? I know you prefer the super-old movies, but..."

"Sure thing, kid. I kinda like those hell-horses in there anyway, that scene was fun!" he said and grinned, completely dismissing Harley from his mind.

Harley started to set the table, but her thoughts wandered back to the sinking ship of their relationship...

What did they even do together these days? Aside from maybe a few robberies?

Hell... They hadn't been on a real date in ages!

He didn't even remember her birthday anymore, but he send Batman a gift every damned week!

Everything was Batman fault! It always was!

She wasn't blind! She could see how her sweet little angel looked at him sometimes. There had been a time when he looked at her that way. 

She wasn't sure exactly what had happened, but at some point the Joker's already excessive time spent planning new schemes to play with Batman started to spread and strech until it took up his every waking moment. And Harley was slowly pushed into the background because of it.

Batman. Batman. Batman. That was all he talked about!

Well, maybe not, but it certainly felt like it sometimes.

She wanted to kill the Bat so badly, but she knew Mr. J. would hate her forever if she did that. And one time of being pushed out a third-story window was more than enough thank-you-very-much!

Still... She hated how much time and money he spent on Batman, while he couldn't even be bothered to give her money to buy food.

Batman had replaced her in every aspect except bed. Or, at least she didn't think he had. But now that she was thinking about it, she felt that little green monster of jealousy rear it's ugly head. What if he had?! 

Jay had been pretty cold to her lately...

And his nightmares! No matter how much pills he took he still had those horrible nightmares! Only now, she was not in them-- 

There was a time when she would have been. When she was the only thing keeping him afloat in them... The light in his life... His Doctor.

It felt like such a long time ago now....

"What's wrong mom?" Jester suddenly stood besides her and watched as she rubbed the tears from her eyes. Where had he come from?

"Nothin'. Just got chili-pepper in my eye is all," she said before turning to smile at her beautiful baby boy. She stroked back his bangs with a motherly touch and a found smile on her lips.

He looked exactly like his daddy, after that dip in the pool. She hated that he had to go through that, but there was nothing she could do about it now. It was too late.

"It's okay, mom. It's okay," he said and hugged her. She couldn't help but hug his small form back and kiss the top of his head.

Jester was such a sweet kid. If it wasn't for him she might have listened to Ivy and left already, but she just couldn't leave her baby-boy, no matter how upset she was at Jay!

And she still loved Jay, she really did... But how could she get his attention back with Batman hanging around, trying to steal her boyfriend from her and put him back in Arkham where only he could visit him?!

That stupid bat was always flirting with her puddin', trying to steal him away with his stupid back-and-forth games, playing all hard to get and but always come running whenever the Joker showed his face in town. 

And how could she compete with the love taps the Bat gave her sweet little angel?

She still remembered how charmed he had been the last time she pulled a gun at his head and actually pulled the trigger. It was a good thing it had turned out to be one of his joke-guns, but she could see how much he loved her the moment he did.

Her boyfriend loved playing with danger, it got him all hot and bothered. 

But she really didn't want to hurt him. And she wasn't strong enough to give him a good beating like Batman could. 

All she could do was to give him everything she had to give and hope it was enough. And it would have been, had it not been for that damned flying rodent!!!

Poor Jay... How could he possibly resist someone who focused his entire attention on him like that? Someone that kept getting him all worked up...

She wished she could kill the damned bat, or at least make him stop chasing after her puddin'....

"So what's for breakfast Harls?" Joker's voice broke her out of her daydream as he sauntered over to her, picking bits of gift-wrappings and strings out of his hair after their juvenile paper-fight earlier on.

"Turkey stuffed with chili-pepper!" she quipped proudly, "It's all crismass-y and everythin', and I got you 'em death chilies you love so much too!"

"Hrm," he looked at the turkey, "It's no stuffed bat, but it'll do," he joked and grinned at her.

She bent over backwards to please him, and not so much as a thank-you. His mind was clearly elsewhere.

'Damn that bat!'

* * *

Batman sat perched on one of the many rooftops of Gotham, his cloak draped around him to protect him from the cold winds that promised snow but never quite delivered.

It wasn't the tallest building he could have picked, but it was in the Narrows, and that was where most of the crime went down... Usually.

Tonight, however, had been a cold, slow night. Few people was outdoors in the cold weather, especially this late on crismass day.

Even the crazy cat-lady that Selina had dragged him to visit once --normally she lived alone with only her cats for company-- seemed to have someone visit her today. Maybe a estranged relative, or son?

Hell... Even the semi-insane doomsayer he'd seen sleeping on street-corners from time to time when he wasn't preaching about the end being near seemed to be sharing a hobo-fire with an equally shabby looking woman, and by the looks of things they were more than just friends.

Batman turned away.

For some reason it felt like everywhere he looked, everyone else had someone they were spending their day with. Everyone except him.

And this was the year Selina had promised she would celebrate the holiday with him too, only to break up with him shortly before the big day itself.

She could be horribly inconsiderate sometimes. And that almost hurt more than the breakup itself.

He turned away and jumped off the roof, gliding to another building, just to get away from all that awful... coziness!

He had better things to do anyway! Like keeping a lookout for criminals....

He sighed and leaned back against a wall, looking every bit the picture of despair that he felt.

He couldn't lie to himself. Couldn't close his eyes to that cold, empty feeling that was currently clawing at his insides.

Alfred might always be there for him, but the man had promised his parents to look after him, and at any rate it just wasn't the same.

He really wished someone would do something. 

Rob a liquor store! Kick a puppy! Heck... He'd even take jaywalking!

His lips quirked up in a pained smile. Maybe he should have brought the eggnog with him on his patrol. Even if it didn't exactly promote a clear head. But at least it stopped him from thinking.

He was currently a bit woozy, but not nearly enough.

Suddenly he caught a glimpse of something vivid and purple and he shot up from his relaxed position.

'Could it be...?'

His instinct screamed at him to rush after it, to see if maybe, just maybe, it was him! 

His blood rushed and his adrenalin spiked as he ran after the flash of purple. The splash of color stood out even in the darkest the winter night, and he caught another glimpse of it just as he rounded the corner.

A haunting laughter flowed down the darkened alleyway, and he knew he had been right.

His lips quirked up in a dangerous smile as he kept chasing the madman deeper into the bowls of of the darkened Gotham streets.

Down, down, down the allies they went. Then up, up, up and further up still they climbed. 

Until they yet again went flying across narrow gaps between on the rooftops, familiar shadows in the night high above the city-streets.

The familiar chase. The thrill of the hunt. The expectations of violence and battle.

His blood was pounding in his veins like the drums of war, calling him to fight... 

How he had missed this!

Finally something! 

Excitement! Danger! The possible outlet for all his pent-up aggression!

He almost laughed himself, but held back and let only a slight smile shine through his stoic mask.

Another ladder, and the Joker finally turned to face him, all open hands and claws and teeth. Ready to embrace him and swallow him whole.

"Darling~!" he said, his arms spread wide as if to embrace a long lost lover. That familiar shark's grin on his violently painted lips...

"Joker," Batman growled out and readied himself for the inevitable battle he knew would come. That had to come. That needed to come!

They were standing on a broad ledge of a building, or perhaps this was the roof itself and the small square in the middle was merely an addition to that.

The cold wind whipped around them and rustled the black cloak of the bat, as well as the the vivid purple tail-coat of the clown. 

They circled each-other in the first steps of their familiar, eternal dance of death. Each one watched their partner with the intensity of a passionate lover, and each one matched their steps to mirror the dark reflection of their counterpart. Always opposite, yet always the same.

Both of them knew that a single misstep could easily be their last, yet they only ever had eyes for each-other, and all else faded out.

Batman lunged forward, more eager to initiate that first contact than he had ever been before.

It didn't matter that the clown hadn't actually caused any damage yet. It didn't matter that he had shown no inclination to attack him, or do anything bad at all.

With the Joker, it was only a matter of time before he hurt someone else. The man could not help but hurt people, because he fundamentally did not care about them. Because he hated all of humanity with a mad passion. And because he was fundamentally insane, in some unidentifiable way.

Joker dodged the kicks and relished in the rough touches of Batman's glove-covered hands as they crushed flesh and cracked bones --or tried to do so.

The Joker let his excitement show in the way his unforgettable laughter rung loud and mad across the dark landscape around them, and the way his ever-present grin stretched wider and wider as he threw himself into the fight with reckless abandon. 

His movement were wild, chaotic. Yet somehow precise and elegant at the same time.

His touched intimate and dangerous, all fists and knives and sharp edges aimed to draw that sweet, red nectar of life from Batman's well-protected form. To drink in his stained beauty and devour it all.

Batman reeled back as one of the Joker's rarely used, extremely powerful kicks hit him square in the chest. Even through the layers of protective armor he could feel the blow.

The clown's punches, so often aimed for the face, caused some damage, but it had nothing on those unnaturally strong legs...when he chose to use them.

Batman rolled away as the clown attacked again, and used the madman's temporarily lack of balance to swipe his feet from underneath him. His fist quickly came up to kiss the man's face, sending the tall, thin man spinning.

The Joker laughed and wiped the blood from his mouth.

"I'm happy to see you too love~" he teased, before rushing at Batman with the speed that the bat so often forgot that he had.

The fist aimed at his cheek collided in a violent and passionate caress, and it was followed up by a second one that split his lip open and painted his own lips as red as the clowns.

Batman aimed his fists towards the other man, but he felt sluggish, slowed down by the alcohol in his system and the recent drought in criminals to help him stay in shape.

He could not help but relish in the feeling of the madman's face, his skin, his body melting, crushing, breaking under his touch.

Every punch he delivered, every drop of blood he spilled... He relished in it as he would a fine wine. Cherished it even.

When they fought, the rest of the world would melt away. Nothing else mattered.

It was only ever them. Locked in a violent dance that Batman both loved and hated, and the Joker could not live without.

They circled each-other again, landing blow after blow on each of their increasingly exhausted bodies. Pushing each-other to the very limits of what they could handle, and pulling each-other over the edge of what most humans could take. 

There were no half-measures or lukewarm emotions. It was all passion and desire and hate. 

And woe to those who dared come between them...

The Joker's laughter slowly faded to a wheezing cough, while Batman's silent breath became heavier and heavier. Huffing and puffing like a wolf.

A last kick and Batman slowly crumbled into a bat-shaped heap by the wall.

The Joker also looked a bit worse for wear, clutching his side as he leaned on the wall above Batman. 

Blood was running down his face and the vague start of a colorful mark was blooming on his cheek. As always, he wore his wounds with pride. Perhaps even pleasure.

The Joker was one step away from collapsing himself, yet he still held himself up, leaning heavily on the wall. Batman could not help but admire the man's stubborn refusal to give in to the limits of the human body, no matter how damaged it got.

The Joker slowly seemed to recover his strength --or perhaps ignore the pain better-- while Batman tried to get up and failed.

Batman wished he was at his usual strength, but it seemed like a few eggnog's too many had taken away his normally sharp edge. On the other side, the Joker did look a bit tired as well... But he was still in better shape than Batman right now.

Maybe this had not been such a great idea after all....

"Just finish me already," Batman coughed out. 

It would be the perfectly miserable end to a perfectly miserable holiday.

"Now why would I do that?" the Joker asked and held out a glove-covered hand to help the exhausted Batman up. 

"It'd be a waste of good food for one thing," he states, and stares at Batman while wiggling his outreached hand towards the bat. His other hand steadied on his hip, as if nothing at all was wrong, even with blood pouring down his face, occasionally wiped away with a yellow handkerchief.

"C'm on, take it! It's not a snake! If I wanted you dead I could kill you right now, and you wouldn't be able to do shit about it."

Batman tentatively took his hand and allowed the clown help him up. He did not trust him, not one bit. But it didn't seem like he has much choice right now either. 

And the clown was right. If he had wanted him dead, he would be.

And, come to think of it, this was not the first time he had chosen to spare --or even save-- Batman's life. Not by a long-shot.

"What food?" Batman chose to focus on what the clown said earlier, so he didn't have to address the fact that neither of them seemed very willing to let go, once Batman was up. The bat was the first to pull away, as always.

"Well... When I saw you patrolling the city looking all sad and alone I just couldn't help myself. Nobody should be alone on crismass!" the clown took on a shocked expression, his hand over his heart in a heartfelt flair of dramatics.

"What happened to your family and friends anyway? Don't you always brag about how close you guys are? They don't seem to be very good friends, not being there for you and leaving you on your own on crismass day and everything!" there was more curiosity than malice in his voice and looks.

"I... They...have their own families... I didn't want to impose," he muttered and looked away. Dick HAD invited him to dine with him --but that was before he hit him. And even Barbra and Gordon had asked if he wanted to come visit, but... 

He knew he was welcome, it wasn't that. Well, not entirely anyway. He just knew he'd feel like a third wheel.

They might be his friends, but they weren't his family. And not really his at all.

Selena had skipped town. Dumped him via a damned letter instead of just saying it to his face! Never mind the harsh words she'd use, perhaps without knowing how badly it stung. At least he liked to think that she didn't know.

It shouldn't have surprised him, it really shouldn't have. And it sure as hell wasn't the first time she'd ditched him, but... 

He sighed. 

He had thought what they had was stronger than that. He really did. But just like everything else he touched, it turned to dirt. He destroyed everything he touched, and everyone around him got hurt, no matter how hard he tried to keep them safe.

The Joker broke him out of his thoughts by snorting. Eloquent as always.

"Not very good friends then, are they?" he said, studying his nails with a small hint of a smirk on his lips.

Like always the clown had seen straight through him. 

"Oh? And you are?" he challenged back.

"I'm here right now, ain't I? I'd never let my bestest buddy in the whole wide world be alone on crismass eve! You know that Batsy! You couldn't get rid of me if you tried!" his hand went back to his chest to convey how honest he was, and how hurt that Batman didn't believe him. 

Batman was almost willing to believe he was being honest. Almost.

"Now c'on! Dinner won't stay warm forever. And I won't take no for an answer!" the clown grinned as he placed his arm around Batman's waist and helped him climb the last few stairs to the topmost roof on the building.

Bruce couldn't help but feel a small, warm flush rise in him at that. The hand resting on his waist felt like it was burning straight through his armor, even though he couldn't possibly feel anything more than a slight pressure from it.

He wasn't sure why --and he was very sure it had to be a sign that he was loosing his mind-- but the Joker's unspoken promise of always being there for him, no matter what, and the heath of the other man as he leaned on him made him feel.... warm.

He had always found it hard to believe the psychotic clown cared for anyone but himself, yet here they were... At the rooftop of a building sporting a wonderful rooftop view of Gotham, in front of a wobbly table that had clearly been decorated and decked out with care --even if the decorations were as quirky and garish as the man who made them. Purple reindeer, really?

And said man was currently holding him up, and perhaps hugging him just a bit closer than he strictly needed too.

...and in that one magical moment... Bruce didn't mind at all.

"Oh, look! Snow!" the Joker giggled gleefully and tried to catch a snowflake on his tongue, making Bruce laugh at his childish antics.

"Batman laughs!" the Joker gasped and let go of him just long enough clasp his chest in a dramatic pose of shock and horror, before quickly catching the bat so he wouldn't fall.

"It's a crismass miracle!" he declared gleefully as he helped Batman sit down in one of the two chairs set at the table. It looked far more sturdy than the table itself, and it made Batman wonder about just how much thought the Joker had put into this.

The Joker's chair looked just as decrepit as the table. But then again, the Joker was tall and thin, while Batman was bulky and muscular, and wore somewhat heavy armor.

It made him realize that Joker must have gone out of his way to find a sturdier chair...just for him!

That warm glow in his chest persistently came back, and to hide the discomfort he felt he quickly grabbed the wine and poured them both a glass.

The whole thing was unreal and downright bizarre. He almost felt like he was floating in a dream, surrounded by the rare snowfall that had nothing to do with any super-villain for once, on the top of one of the taller buildings --offering a great view of Gotham-- and ready to eat a nice crismass dinner with the greatest villain he had met in his entire career as Batman.

"I...er... got you a little something-something," Joker said, almost sounding hesitant and shy. It was cute, and very unlike the confident man he knew so well.

"I don't know if you'll like it, but I think you will. Oh, who am I kidding?! Of course you will!"

The Joker grinned as he handed over a neatly wrapped gift in green wrapping with white polka-dots on it, tied with a thick, purple ribbon.

"I... Thank you," Batman said as accepted the gift, unsure what to do. 

"Well... Open it!" the Joker almost bounced in his seat like an exited child on his birthday.

Batman held the present out from him as if it was a bomb --still remembering the time the Joker gave him a gift that turned out to be a pie smashing into his face-- and carefully opened it.

"A cellphone?" he said, looking over at the Joker.

"It's just a part of it! You'll get the rest later," 

"Oh! And my number's on it, soooo.... Call me whenever you want, sugarplum~" Joker said and blew him a kiss.

"I'll... keep that in mind," Batman said, staring at the phone as if it would jump up and bite him.

"Oh, fine! Just take it apart when you get back home if you must. It's just an iPhone! Latest model too! I even paid for it, imagine that! Only the best for my darling Bat~!" he grinned widely and pulled the lid of his plate, cutting off a small piece of what looked like sliced up crismass ham with all the appropriate side-dishes. 

Batman did the same for his, and while skeptical, his first taste showed that it was surprisingly good, and it did not seem to have any dangerous substances in it. Much as he could tell. But then again, that could be the wine talking. He felt strangely trusting of the clown right now. Everything just felt so surreal.

It was a surprisingly classy setup for the clown, and somehow he had gotten each and every one of Bruce's favorites, while avoiding every item he did not like. Hell... Even the wine was on of his favorites, and it must have cost someone a pretty penny. 

Based on what the Joker had said before, he almost suspected the maniac had paid for it himself, strange as it seemed. Not that the money wasn't stolen, but he didn't expect the criminal madman to understand the problem with that. And at least when he stole money, it was usually from a bank. Which meant less casualties, so as long as they co-operated.

The Joker lifted the wine glass to his lips and closed his eyes as he took a sip, as if he tried hard to savor the taste. Which was almost strange, since this wine had much sharper flavors than most other wines, and he had seen the man drop in what looked to be a sliced up chili in his glass.

A single droplet escaped as he drank, and trailed down those inviting blood-red lips.

However, as the man placed it down, he ran his fingers up and down the stem while licking his lips in a suggestive manner that made Batman feel strangely flustered, and he felt like he really should get the hell out of there before something horrible happened.

He wasn't sure exactly what he was scared of happening, but all the same this was just too much!

It wasn't like the Joker hadn't flirted with him before. Almost every time they met, in fact. And he wasn't sure what exactly was different about today, but...

Then it suddenly he realized the Joker had now given him two crismas gifts, and he had given the clown nothing but a beating. Although, knowing him, he might actually count that as a gift...

"Uh... I have..." he fumbled around with what he got, and for the first time cursing the fact that everything he ever carried served some kind of criminal-hunting function. 

"Uh... Here! My gift for you!" Batman said, thrusting out an old and well-used Baterang for the clown to take without looking at him, feeling as if he'd be caught in a lie if he looked up.

He felt flustered and vaguely ashamed. Not only because he was having a nice time with someone he should have caught and dragged back to Arkham, but also because it was just bad manners to not return someone's gift with a gift of equal value. And his own was just...not that good.

He was sure the Joker would see right through his very obvious lie. Maybe even laugh at him.

"...Thank you," the clown said, his voice honest, and he sounded almost in awe. As if Batman's shabby gift had been the one thing he had always wanted. Like it was something precious.

"I will treasure it forever. Even more because you gave it to me."

His face held a look of supervise and wonder that made it clear he had not expected anything in return for his gifts. As if he only wanted to make Batman happy.

That strange glow in his chest refused to leave as he watched the joy on his nemesis' face.

The Joker accepted the Baterang with the awed worship of a priest accepting a holy relic. Even tho he must have already had a few of them, seeing as the clown had managed to run away with one or two of them in his shoulder at some point or other. 

Batman didn't have count of how many of those things he'd lost over the years. Most of them while fighting the Joker.

But he didn't feel like it was a very good gift, considering what the clown had given him.

He might not appreciate the lack of crime as much as he thought he would have, but it was obvious that the Joker had gone to great lengths to give him the one thing he had always told the man he wanted. And the cellphone couldn't have been cheap either.

However, any protests or explanations Batman might have had died on his tongue as he saw the genuine wonder and joy in Joker's eyes --a highly unusual sight on the psychotic clown.

Batman picked up his wine and took a sip to hide his confused feelings as he watched the clown study the Baterang with the intensity of a child who's biggest wish to Santa had just come true and he was looking at it.

The warm feeling in his chest spread throughout his whole being and came to rest as fluttering butterflies in his stomach. 

And he couldn't stop a smile from lingering on his lips as he watched those acid green eyes look up at him with such adoration and love as he had never before seen on anyone but the clown, and a what looked to be the first truly honest smile he had seen on those blood-red lips.

It must be the wine. Yes. That was it. There could be no other explanation for it.

That warm cozy feeling spreading through him, and his stomach doing those strange flip-flops that made him want to smile and stare at that pale, beautiful face... it had to be the wine.

There was no way he had any positive feelings towards his arch nemesis...right?

* * *

* * *

_***I'm referring to the episode of Gotham in which Bruce starts school again after his parent's murders. That is about the time he starts training to learn how to fight and so on.**_

 _ ***For those who hasn't read such comics as The Batman Who Laughs and White Knight: Yeah... Bruce DO love violence. He is EVERY BIT as violent as the Joker. He just directs it differently.**_

 _ **This may be what the Joker refers to when he says Batman is JUST LIKE HIM.**_

 _ **Under that stoic surface there is a beast roaring, begging to be let out of it's cage.**_

 _ **Batman has it trapped away under layers of guilt, fear and his very, VERY vague moralism.**_

 _ **Batman's ONE Rule comes from the fact that he is TERRIFIED of unleashing that beast.**_

 _ **Personally I suspect that Batman fears --not that killing someone will be hard on him, but that he'll LIKE it! A little TOO much.**_

 _ **And a rule broken once is no longer a hard and fast rule. Break it once, and the second time will be far easier. The third time, even more so. And if Batman opens THAT particular can of worms, well... I think The Batman Who Laughs gives a good hint in just how well THAT could go! Or the Dictator-Batman in Last Knight on Earth.**_

 _ ***A reference to what Harley says in Harleen:**_

 _ **"In the dream I smile. After all, this is where I belong. In His world. With him... Because I love him. Because I can still help him. Because even in the dream I hope I can save him. It's a good dream. It's just... there's a small, lucid part of me that wants to wake up. The dream has lasted quite a while. A long time in the dark. I mean, even the darkest night must end... right?"**_

 _ **In essence; Harley is trapped in her own mind, in what she honestly believes to be a dream. That is WHY she CAN do all the horrible things she does. Why she can still smile no matter WHAT happens to her. No matter WHAT the Joker DOES to her. Because it's a dream. Just a dream. Nothing matters, not when it's just a dream.**_

 _ **Interestingly not too far from the Joker's world view, in so far that nothing matters.**_

 _ **Except to the Joker, nothing matter because the world is a freakin' black, horrible joke. EVERYTHING is a joke. There's no MEANING in ANYTHING!**_

 _ **And if nothing has any meaning, and there is NO objective Value in ANYTHING (which, believe me, there isn't. If you want the essay, ask) then you might as well do whatever the fuck you want. You might as well laugh at your pain. Laugh at all the idiots in the world that acts as if what they Value MATTERS... when it so clearly doesn't.**_

 _ **So neither of them fears anything, for similar, but very different reasons.**_

 _ **Harley fears nothing because she believes nothing is real, everything is a dream.**_

 _ **The Joker fears nothing because NOTHING matters. Not life. Not death. Not even pain or suffering, or any of the potential good things in life. It's all without Value.**_

 _ **Everything... except Batman. Perhaps the ONLY thing he ACTUALLY Value. But he also knows the Value isn't real. It's really complicated, and, again, requires an essay. Or ten. (And I don't have one yet on THIS subject.) The Joker is nothing if not contradictory.**_

 _ ***First of all: WORST breakup letter EVER. Yes, that was intentionally. I even googled some of the worst things to say when breaking up, plus adding a few things that was more personal. lol**_

 _ **Word of advice; If you ever plan to use ANYTHING I wrote in those letters, expect a broken leg in return. Just sayin'. lol**_

 _ ***The Joker has stopped Batman from killing someone twice and stepped in to kill the person Batman was just about to kill so Batman wouldn't have to at least once. And that's ONLY the times -I- know about!**_

 _ ***Refering to Arkham: A Serious Place on a Serious Earth. And the time he smacked (or grabbed, hard to tell from a drawing) Batman's ass, and said "Loosen up, tight-ass."**_

 _ ***I am using Harleen as a reference source for Harley's backstory, rather than the older Mad Love. Mostly because I feel that Mad Love is incredibly shallow and makes very little sense by comparison.**_

 _ **Harleen, on the other hand, goes more into the details of Harley's psychology, and her REASONS for falling for the Joker, of all people. As well as showing how he manipulates her, and gives a deeper insight in his personality and the way he behaves all-together.**_

 _ ***ACTUALLY happened. Boy did Robin hitchhike with the wrong guy!**_

 _ ***The Chinese people say:**_

 _ **"Remember what the customer said. We don't let her out until we smell piss, okay?"**_

 _ **"I know. I know."**_

 _ ***A small nod to CrazyJanaCat's story Prince of Clowns. *Chuckles* If you want to know WHAT the game was, go check it out. ; )**_

 _ ***The Jester Doll is actually a nod to Dark Prince Charming. (The comic book) In which the Joker gave that exact doll to his hostage. It happen to have a video-camera in it's eyes so he can keep an eye on her. lol**_

 _ ***I'm sorry Leonard... You're just TOO EASY to torture! *Laughs maniacally* A small nod to the Big Bang Theory. For the lolz.**_

 _ ***The Joker has had Batman at his mercy countless of times. And he's actively saved his life at LEAST 5 times. He also pointed out in The Batman Who Laughs that he never want to win, because he want their game to go on forever. And his ideal death seems to be some kind of Romeo and Juliet if it was done by Tim Burton, but more violent.**_

 _ **Happy Holidays**_


	6. Flowers of Evil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What is a clown to do when his beloved Bat seems to ignore his every gesture of affection? Why... step up his game of course! With a little help from his son...

_" You know...you got a willing slave..._

 _And you just love to play the thought_

 _That you might misbehave."_

.

* * *

"I _**DEMAND**_ to talk to my son!" The Joker was raging in his cell in Arkham, slamming his hands against the glass in rage. 

.

The sound rang through the room, and the guards feared it was only a matter of time before the supposedly unbreakable glass would break from the violent, repeated assault. It was already cracked in a few places.

.

He had been going on for almost a week now, and the guards were not the only ones who were getting worried, solitary cell or not. Rumors spread fast in Arkham, where even the walls had ears.

.

The crazy killer clown had already taken out two of the guards who was unfortunate enough, or stupid enough, to come close, and the remaining ones had finally decided to get the director to call on Batman to control him.

.

 **"You don't have a son,"** a familiar, low-toned voice said.

.

"Batsy!" Joker perked up, as he always did when Batman was around. 

.

"Sorry to break your illusions of me, darling, but I'm really not in the mood today. I have a _**RIGHT**_ to make my one phone call! I know I do! I may be mad, but I'm not stupid! You wouldn't deny a man to talk to his kid, wouldcha'?" he placed his hand over his heart in a grand gesture of love and caring. 

.

It seemed mocking, coming from him.

.

If the situation hadn't been so surreal, batman would have laughed at the tragic face his nemesis was currently making.

.

 **"You don't have a son,"** batman insisted. Which caused the Joker to throw himself against the glass in outrage.

.

 _ **"FUCK YOU!!!"**_ he slammed his hands against the glass, hard enough to make the crack in it just a little bit bigger. Threatening it to burst.

.

Nobody had dared to move him back to his cell after his last session with a psychiatrist, and nobody dared to try now.

.

"I fucking told you I do! But you didn't _listen!_ You never _**LISTEN!!!"**_ he shouted, bashing the glass. Then he rapidly turned serious.

.

"Now... Do I have to hurt more people, or will you just give me a phone so I can call my son?!"

.

 **"You can talk through the glass, and I will press the numbers,"** Batman finally conceded.

.

"Yes-yes-yes. I don't care, _just let me talk to him!"_

.

 **"AND I will put you on speaker,"** Batman said, while the Joker just rolled his eyes. He didn't expect anything less by the overly suspicious Bat anyway.

.

Batman was sure the Joker was up to something, but as long as he didn't allow him anywhere near electronics, he should be able to handle any fallout. 

.

He would stay in control and make sure the Joker could not pass on any message that sounded even the least bit suspicious. He was used to his tricks, and he knew how his mind worked --at least somewhat--, and knew what kind of codes he had used before. 

.

Plus he might even get a glimpse into what his plans were and just why he deemed this phone-call so important.

.

And if it calmed him down and allowed him to be taken back to his far more secure cell, then it might be for the best. He'd never seen the Joker so...frantic before. Even his hair was disheveled. It would have been cute if it wasn't so worrisome.

.

 _'Did I really just think that?'_

.

Batman shook it off and focused on dialing the number the psychotic clown before him was reading out to him, before holding the phone against the glass. 

.

 _"Hello?"_

.

 _ **"Jester!"**_ his face lit up in an almost childlike delight. 

.

Batman could not quite hide his own shocked expression that the clown was even capable of that look. It looked so... innocent. So unlike the wicked grins he used around him and everyone else.

.

 _ **"DAD!** Where are you?! Did the mean Mr. Pouty get you?! I thought you were **DEAD!"**_ the kid's voice emerging from phone's speakers broke the bat's brain for the second time that day. He sounded very young, and on the verge of tears.

.

"Shhh...Shh... It's okay, son. I'll be back out soon enough. You know I will." he disliked that the bat had insisted he put the phone on speakers, but he supposed he couldn't blame him. He just hoped nobody else heard about this, it was bad enough that the bat saw him all mushy and shit. 

.

...Although maybe he could use that....

.

"Look, kiddo. I'm stuck in Arkham's wonderful holiday facilities at the moment and..." he tried to put his hand over the speaker as the kid shouted threats and profanities he was quite sure would be bad for what he was trying to show Batsy.

.

"Kid. Shut up!"

.

 _"...."_

.

"There you go! Now, kid... I know it's tough, but I'll be back before you know it, okay? In the meanwhile you know what to do. And don't repeat it here, I'm afraid my darling Bat is listening in on everything."

.

Batman glared at him, although he wasn't quite sure if it was for the endearment he used, the fact that he wouldn't let the kid slip up and spill something, or the fact that it was, well... a _kid!_

.

And the Joker was not someone he wanted _anywhere_ near a kid! Not even his own!

In fact, he'd worked very hard to ensure that exact scenario never happened. Which made him antsy to make a few calls just to make sure everything was...as it should be. [[1]](https://batman.fandom.com/wiki/Batman_Wiki)

.

 _".... Mom too?"_ the kid asked timidly and the Joker's eye twitched.

.

"What?! _No!_ Maybe. I don't know! Aren't I good enough for you? Do we really _need_ her?" he whined. 

.

The short argument that followed had the Joker quickly sigh in defeat.

.

He sounded exasperated, like they'd have this exact discussion enough times that he couldn't be bothered to argue. And wasn't _that_ a mind-fuck!

.

...and somehow a bit of a relief. _'He don't love her.'_ He decided not to question that line of thought. Or think about it. Ever!

.

And the Joker... not killing someone who argued! The Joker sounding almost... human.

Batman could not believe his eyes. Or ears, for the matter.

.

 _"You sound confused. Are they electrocuting you brain again? Try not to let them fry your mind too much and forget about me!"_ the boy sounded cheerful, like he was joking, but there was a worried tone in his voice.

.

The statement made Batman frown. Electrocute? The kid was clearly referring to the outdated electroshock therapy at Arkham.

.

He knew about it of course, but for the first time he felt uncomfortable with it. But the Joker deserved it...didn't he? They all did.

.

So why did he feel the desire --however small-- to stop them? And why _now?_

.

There was no proof it had ever worked, and it was nothing short of a way to mess up their mind even more, as well as torture. And neither Batman or Bruce Wayne condoned torture. Not even of criminals and killers. It had absolutely nothing to do with a certain green-haired clown!

.

He also wondered if that might not be one of the reasons nobody at Arkham seemed to get better. In fact... everyone in here --including the workers-- always seemed to get _worse._

.

He definitivly had to look into what was going on behind these walls.

.

He suddenly had to put a glove-covered hand over his mouth to cover up a small smile when they started to argue --of all things-- over a _teddy-bear!_

.

"No. _**NO!**_ Bruce is **_mine!_** Get your own teddy!" the Joker had a miffed look on his face that was just... it wasn't adorable. Certainly not! But...

.

' _Bruce'._.. he felt his blood run cold. Was it possible that...? He shook his head. It had to be a coincidence. If he knew...why hadn't he told anyone? Why hadn't he threatened him with it? Used it against him? No... It _had_ to be a coincidence. _**Had**_ to be! [[2]](https://batman.fandom.com/wiki/Batman_Wiki)

.

 _"But daaad...."_ the kid whined, sounding like someone who had gotten his way a few times too many. 

.

The Joker ran his hand through his hair in an exasperated manner and leaned against the wall.

.

It was beyond adorable, and it messed up any image Batman might have had in his head as to how the Joker could possibly have behaved as a father.

.

"No means no!" he paused, then closed his eyes and cursed to himself at whatever he was imagining. 

.

If he had been anyone else, Batman would have thought it was the puppy-dog eyes that were the bane of all doting parents. But that was just wrong to picture that with the Joker. On so many levels!

.

"...okay, fine! Tell you what! Have Johnny-boy pick you up one. A brand new one! Whatever you want! Tell him I said too..." he paused and his voice faded into a muttering, "...although he'd probably do it anyway... _stupid softie of a traitor._.." before it changed and turned into yelling. **_"CURSE those puppy-dog eyes of yours! STOP doing it!!! I KNOW YOU ARE!!"_**

.

Batman winced at the violent mood swings, and was worried the kid would start to cry again. He **_hated_** not being able to save someone, especially a kid! And who knows what kind of 'punishments' the Joker dealt out when he got angry. Poor kid.

.

Only years of practice and an iron will stopped his jaw from hitting the floor when the kid, instead of crying, started to giggle.

.

He didn't sound like the Joker's anger worried him. _At all!_ And this was a man who made even hardened criminals cry!

.

 _'Was it possible?'_ Batman didn't know, but it certainly sounded like the clown almost... _cared_...for someone!

.

But he was an unrepentant psychopath...wasn't he?

.

Suddenly a flicker of hope rose in his chest. Maybe, just _maybe_ the Joker _could_ be saved!

.

But he quickly pushed it down, the horrible incident with Dr. Quinzel fresh in his mind, even after all these years. The clown was a master manipulator. He could never forget that.

.

He still felt guilty for enabling Dr. Quinzel to get close to him. He should have seen it. Predicted it. Somehow. But he didn't. Hadn't. 

.

And because of his mistake a great psychiatrist was lost to madness. Trapped in her own mind, in a dreamworld of her own making induced by the psychotic Clown Prince before him, and enabled by he, as Bruce Wayne. He never should have founded her research. No matter _how_ groundbreaking.

.

The road to Hell is paved with good intentions. He knew that better than anyone.

.

He also remembered the long line of psychiatrists that had tried to get into the madman's mind before, only to find themselves trapped there. More than one of them now shared the clown's so-called 'holiday accommodations'. But he had hopes that _some_ could still be saved. Hopefully.

.

So, no. He had to be on his guard. To not be fooled by the man's schemes and lies.

.

It was a mistake the city could not afford for him to make.

.

And yet the more he listened to the conversation between them, the harder it was to see the Joker as the cold, unfeeling psychopath that he had come to know his as. And that was dangerous.

.

 _Very_ dangerous.

.

"That's enough." Batman said. But for the kid's sake, he decided to give the clown enough time to say goodbye, even if he wanted to just hands up stop this surreal nonsense that was messing with his mind so much. 

.

It was a decision he would come to regret. 

.

"Alright, kiddo. Gotta go, the big, bad bat has decided playtime is over. I'll see you when I get out!" Joker said, and Batman had to bite his tongue to not break the kids illusions by saying his dad wasn't going anywhere. 

.

He also knew he would be fooling himself if he thought Arkham could keep the Joker contained for very long. No matter how much money he sank into it, Arkham seemed to have some kind of revolving-door policy when it came to the Joker-- and quite a few of the other high-profile patients too.

.

 _"I love you dad! Please come home!"_

.

* * *

.

Jester stared at the phone for a few seconds before hanging up. What would have been a faint smile on his face was an all-out grin instead, even if he didn't feel particularly happy. 

.

Permanent muscle-contractions his dad called it, paired with the acid eating into the sensitive skin at the edges of his mouth, stretchering just a bit too wide to seem human. Sometimes it hurt.

.

Not that it was nearly as wide as his dad's, but then again he wasn't all-together sure his dad's grin was _purely_ caused by the acid... He wouldn't put it past his dad to emulate that french poetic story... Maldoror or something, and carve it into his face himself. 

.

His dad loved to read classical literature after all. Or at least quote it. He'd had never actually seen his dad _read_ it.

.

Putting away his cheap burner-phone --the only kind his family ever used, for obvious reasons-- he got up from the hidden spot in the ally he had been sitting in. He looked around carefully, and when he saw no danger, scurried down the streets towards the Narrows.

.

It wasn't the safest place for a kid to be, but it was where uncle Johnny lived. At least when he wasn't sitting at some bar or other. And Harry would bet that for all the danger, he'd always keep a window...if not fully open, then at least available. He smoked a lot.

.

He ran at the wall and used it to kick off from, so he could reach the emergency-ladder that was placed high enough for even adults to struggle to jump high enough to grip. That way he could get himself up to the much safer rooftops.

.

Suddenly his dad's drill sargent attitude towards making him run, jump, and climb stuff didn't seem so bad after all. He didn't think he'd survive very long if he hadn't known how to do all this stuff and stay away from the far more dangerous streets below.

.

Living on the streets ever since his dad's disappearance had taught him that Gotham at night was not a very nice or forgiving place to be. Especially not if you were a kid, and one that looked a whole lot like the Joker at that. His dad had a lot of enemies.

.

He wasn't big or strong, and his legs couldn't carry him nearly as fast as an adult could run-- or even the older street kids.

.

His mom and uncle Johnny had taught him how to fight, but he was nowhere near their level yet. And his dad had taught him how to run and jump and climb with more skills than most citizens could ever hope to achieve, but it just wasn't enough.

.

He was only nine years old, and sometimes he felt so lost and alone and scared that he didn't know what to do. Those times he remembered his dad's words --one of his many advices-- and his laughter... 

.

And Jester laughed. 

.

Forced at first, but with time and practice it came quicker and more easily, until it slowly became an integrated habit. An instant response to fear and pain.

.

He laughed and laughed and laughed, until the fear went away and his blood rushed with adrenalin, ready to fight or run. 

.

Always alert and aware, and filled with a new and strange excitement that had him rush towards danger instead of away from it, he felt like maybe he could do anything!

.

That wasn't always a good thing, but it kept him going. Even if he sometimes got beaten up, or people tried to rob him. It was a good thing he had taken his Fun Gun with him when he left, and a couple of switchblades.

.

And he did have the element of surprise on his side. Nobody expected a kid to attack them, no matter how weird he looked.

.

If a few minor criminals turned up dead in an ally, well... It wasn't like anyone really cared.

.

He was just thankful he hadn't run into any of the real Villains thus far. Or any vigilantes. And he knew how to stay one step ahead of the cops. You could see _them_ coming a mile away.

.

His dad had so _many_ enemies, and all it would take was a single glance at him to see that he was his father's son. And he just _knew_ they'd use him to try and get at his dad. Or hurt him. And he couldn't allow that. He refused to be his father's weakness.

.

But Jester knew that he really wouldn't be able to stand up against someone who actually _knew_ what they were doing.

.

There were times when he had thought about calling Uncle Eddie. But every time he dialed the number, he suddenly remembered that Eddie was working very hard on his latest scheme, and he realized that Ed would even pick up the phone. He was just far too busy.

.

Also... He wasn't 100% sure if he could trust him. Or anyone, really. Not if it turned out his dad really _was_ dead.

.

He refused to think about that option. It hurt too much, and clouded his judgment. He had to focus on staying alive himself.

.

Getting food had been both hard and easy at the same time.

.

He was used to shoplifting with his mother, who usually just filled the cart with food and ran off right in front of everyone. But she could be sneaky when she wanted to as well.

.

However, he was a short kid, and not nearly as strong as his mom, and he had to make due with just sneaking a few items under his clothes. It wasn't much, but it kept him alive.

.

A few times he had very nearly been caught, but thankfully the people who were working at the stores were either too apathetic about their jobs to bother chasing him, or too big fans of eating junk to be very good runners. Sometimes both.

.

He was glad to at least have a roof over his head that was more or less safe.

.

His dad owned a theater down near Crime Ally, and nobody in their right mind would set foot in there! Nobody that knew who owned it at least, and that was the majority of the crime world.

.

His dad didn't use it much nowadays, so nobody expected to find his dad there either. Which was good. And he _did_ have a few safety measures in place that he had shown Jester, plus a few hidden rooms that Jester felt it was safe to sleep in. Safely tucked away under heaps of old, discarded costumes.

.

It was getting cold outside, especially this late in winter. And while this place was nowhere near as nice --or as warm-- as his home, it was miles better than sleeping outside in the frosty Gotham streets. Not to mentions, safer.

.

Jester stopped his train of thought and regained his focus again. 

.

The last jump here would be tricky --the gap was really big between these two buildings-- but once he had jumped across it he'd be almost right outside uncle Johnny's apartment building, and he could finally... _finally_ have a nice, warm meal and maybe even a shower. He was sure he had started to smell.

.

It was strange how he hadn't noticed how much he missed it until just now. But it just felt wrong to not look his very best at all times. His dad always stressed how important it was.

.

Then again, he supposed it didn't matter much if he was clean or not if nobody was going to see him. His foot had some weird rashes or insect bites on them, but he couldn't really feel it. 

.

He couldn't feel much of anything after his accident with that chemical waste. 

It was really weird. He felt a bit disconnected from the world because of it.

.

Sometimes he got into a fight with some street-kid just so he could feel _something._ The pain reminded him that he was still alive. Still breathing. And that this wasn't all just a dream. 

.

It made him feel alive!

.

And, as a bonus, he got better at fighting. 

.

He was sure his dad would be proud of him. Once he escaped the asylum anyway. But he had an unshakable faith that no one could hold his dad against his will for very long. His dad was better than _anyone_ else! Nothing and no one could stand in his way when he wanted something, and no bars could hold him!

.

A child's unshakable faith in his father's godhood.

.

He grinned widely, twisting the fear he felt into excitement and adrenalin as he ran as fast as his short legs could carry him towards the ledge.

.

His feet pushed off at the very end of the roof he was standing on, propelling his body forwards with all the strength that rested in his small body, hoping it would be enough.

.

The light little body flew through the air and landed on the rooftop with almost five feet to spare, before he immediately folded into a roll to minimize the damage, just like his dad had taught him.

.

He landed wrong. 

.

He felt it the second he touched down. A split second too late to go into the roll. A sharp pain in his left foot.

.

He still rolled, but he came out of the roll-- not running like he should, but falling hard onto his back, unable to stand up, barely able to sit. 

.

And then he laughed.

.

He threw his head back and laughed at the pain, as tears leaked into his eyes and he fell backwards to lie on the roof with a smile on his face.

.

It was nice, in a way. At least when he felt pain, he felt _something._

.

And as painful as it was, he knew uncle Johnny would take care of it.

He just hope it wasn't broken. Hoped it was just a twisted ankle or a fracture.

Something that would heal quickly. He always healed up quickly. Quicker than anyone else. It was almost magical.

.

He leaned over and poked at his foot, hissing and chuckling in pain.

It didn't _feel_ broken. 

.

His dad had even used a live target to teach him first aid. Even if he had killed the man in the end, after inflicting all kind of damage on him, so Jester could practice. So he knew what a broken bone felt like. 

.

It should be fine.

.

He'd just have to be a bit careful when he climbed down again, and when he made his way to Johnny's place as quick and unseen as he could with a limp. 

.

But that was okay. He was almost there anyway, and in this neighborhood he doubted they'd dare to mess with him if he mentioned _who_ he was going to see. Nobody messed with someone _that_ close to the Joker.

.

Jester wiped away his tears and laughed again, this time in relieved joy.

.

Finally... _Finally_ his painful ordeal would be over, and soon he'd be together with his dad again, and everything would be exactly like they were before.

.

At least... That's what he hoped.

.

* * *

.

 _'I love you dad! Please come home.'_

.

The words echoed through his mind. As did it's implications.

.

How could the Joker possibly take care of a child?! How could a child love him and call him dad?!

He suspected the kid simply had never know anything else, and that was the reason.

.

A terrible thought gripped him.

.

If this child was the child of the Joker and Harley Quinn... What would happen to him now that both his parents were incarcerated in Arkham?

.

He felt a tug of sympathy for the unknown child as his own feelings to have his parents ripped away from him came flashing back to him.

.

Not that the kid's parents were dead, but it must still be a scary, lonely feeling.

.

Not to mention that the kid would never know for sure if they would ever come back home again. Even if past experiences with those two maniacs had taught him that they always found a way to get back out. Even with all the new updates to their security equipment he had contributed to.

.

The Joker seemed to work more on twisting people's minds to help him get out than to physically break out anyway. And no amount of money could stop that. [[3]](https://batman.fandom.com/wiki/Batman_Wiki)

.

Especially with the large number of enemies his parents had made over the years... Both of them. 

Enemies that would not hesitate to kill or exploit an innocent child to get back at it's parents.

.

He _had_ to find that kid! Had to _help_ him!

.

What had Joker called him? He thought back to the conversation, and tried hard to remember.

.

 _'Jester'_

.

The name was easy to remember for being so similar to the clowns own name, even if he had only mentioned it once.

.

Unless that was a nickname... Or maybe the kid had just never been register. His parents were both wanted criminals after all.

.

He went over to the computer to input it into the system and link it to the Joker's folder. 

He didn't have much on him, but he felt it was better to be safe than sorry. 

.

With a father like the Joker he feared the kid would end up in some kind of governmental system sooner or later, and he feared the kid's end stop would either be Arkham or a general psychiatric clinic.

.

He wasn't sure which alternative was worse.

.

At least the Joker seemed happy enough in Arkham, unlike the traumatized people in the non-criminal psych ward. Unlike his _victims._

.

What he _was_ sure about, however, was his desire to save the kid before it got too late. Before the Joker could drive _him_ insane too. The way the psychotic did everyone else, without even trying.

.

But he feared it might already be too late. 

.

He didn't know how old the kid was, but he was clearly old enough to have mastered the language and how to use a phone. Which meant the boy couldn't be _too_ young.

.

On the other hand, he sounded extremely childish, and more confused and scared over not knowing what had happened to his dad --a mindfuck to even _think_ of the Joker as such-- than any real worry over his own situation... A situation that was almost certainly just as bad, if not worse, than his father's.

.

That meant the kid couldn't be too old, as he _clearly_ didn't understand the full scope of the situation. Or maybe he was so far gone that he didn't think it was that bad... Either way, it was not good.

.

And to add to that cluster-fuck, the Joker acted as if he genuinely _cared_ about this kid!

.

Not just to his face as he would have to a victim. No... It was in the way he demanded his phone-call. The desperation he had seen in him as he was unable to contact him.

.

 _'To comfort him,'_ an unwanted thought said.

.

He feared the implications, but the thought was right. It should have been a good thing, but it was more dangerous than anything. The Joker acting _human._

.

The madman hadn't called the boy to tell him to do something nefarious, or to make sure the kid stayed alive and didn't reveal any secrets.... he called because he was _worried._ He called to _comfort_ the kid. 

.

The Joker _cared_ about someone! Someone other than himself...

.

He had always doubted Alfred's assessment that the Joker had loved Harley, at least he had in the beginning... How could you love someone if you hurt them? Especially as badly as the clown had hurt Harley?

.

But now he was beginning to wonder if it might not have been true. That hurting the people he loved was just how the Joker showed his affection... or maybe he just couldn't stop himself. Maybe his mental illness made it impossible for him to control himself.

.

...which made him pity the child all the more.

.

* * *

.

The days flew by without Batman being able to find so much as a whisper about the child, no matter how hard he tried. The kid had been taught how to hide, and hide well.

.

It was both a good and a bad thing, as it made it impossible to help him. But it also meant that he hadn't turned up dead in a ditch somewhere, which was always a possibility in Gotham. He was grateful for that at least.

.

No child deserved such a terrible end to their young life.

.

The Joker had escaped Arkham almost a month ago, and nobody had heard anything from him. It made Batman anxious. It was never a good thing when the Joker was this silent.

.

It was so very unlike him to take such a long time to do something. Usually something horrific that was aimed to get Batman's attention. 

.

And yet... Nothing.

.

And then it had _finally_ arrived, via Gotham Police Department, addressed to him. Much like all the other clues, hints, disturbing or downright weird poems and the occasional drawing. 

.

This however, was new.... He felt his heart beat faster. It must be a clue then.

.

Batman stared at the CD with some trepidation, before pushing it into the computer to play it. Hopefully it would not contain a computer virus or something on it, but he had no way of telling until he tried.

.

This was it! This was his 'birthday card' for this month! 

.

Whatever sick game the Joker had in mind, this would be it. Or a clue to the real 'gift'. 

.

It could very well be a clue.

.

.

 _"Do you want to save your soul?_

 _Take back all the things that they stole?"_

.

What the hell did the Joker mean? He kept listening, trying to find some kind of clue in the strange, surprisingly soothing song. It was nothing at all like what the Joker usually listened too, and he couldn't help but wonder if his son had something to do with that. It was just so unlike him.

.

Batman had scanned it repeatedly, but it came up blank. No virus or hidden messages. Just a normal, if unusual, song.

.

.

 _"Will someone come, save us from this story-line of mass destruction_

 _Will they stay when they see_

 _What we have done just to be free?_

.

 _Waiting, we're waiting_

 _Waiting, we're waiting_

 _For a superhero_

 _Waiting, we're waiting for a superhero intervention"_

.

.

What the HELL did that mean?! WHO was it he was supposed to save?

He hoped there might be some more clues later in the song.

.

.

 _"The boys on top celebrate_

 _Their cunning game of switch and bait_

 _Looking down at the world they've created_

 _Land of lost and sedated"_

.

.

Was he hinting at taking out someone big? The Mayor? The Police Commissioner? Some important Politician?

.

.

 _"Waiting, we're waiting_

 _Waiting, we're waiting_

 _For a superhero_

 _Waiting, we're waiting for a superhero intervention"_

.

.

He felt on edge. WHO had he taken? WHO needed saving?! He clenched his fist. He hated these little mind-games. It was people's _lives_ dammit!

.

.

 _"I'm waiting for a superhero..._

 _,_

 _Will someone save us from this story line..._

 _I'm just standing here waiting for a sign..._

 _Will someone come save us from the story line..._

 _._

 _I'm just standing here waiting for a sign...."_

.

.

The song toned out and Batman blinked.

.

What. _The **. HELL?!**_

.

 _Who_ was... Was the Joker waiting for **_him_** to do something?! What the Hell did that crazy clown want from him this time?!

.

And why on _**earth**_ would the _Joker_ of all people wait for **_him_**...and why?

.

* * *

.

Harry glared at the shower. 

.

It had never bothered him before that there were no knobs to turn the heat of the shower up or down. It had always been a pleasant temperature, at least compared to the freezing cold water the Dursley's had made him use. But right now it annoyed him to no end!

.

The water trickled down his body, made his hair went and got into his eyes, and yet... he couldn't _feel_ it! It was...creepy.

.

He didn't feel his feet touching the ground either, or his hands holding anything, unless he clutched it real hard. Not really anyway. Not with his skin...only with his muscles.

.

However, he had learned to get used to those things. Even if it _had_ been a period of adjustment for him after the accident.

.

But right now all he wanted to do was to crank the water up so damned hot that he could feel it _burn!_ Crank it up until it **_hurt!_**

.

"Daaaad?" he toweled off his hair and walked into the small, improvised living room in their Fun House lair.

.

"Why can't I turn up the hot water?"

.

The Joker looked over at the annoyed face of his son and sighed.

.

"I know the feeling kid. I wanted the same thing back when **_I_** first changed too.... But believe me... you **_don't_** want to try."

.

"Why not? It's not like I can feel it anyway."

.

"Because you'll burn your skin off. And believe me when I say that having your skin flaking off cuz you got a third-degree burn from re-adjusting the water-tank to make it boil is no more fun now than it was before. Probably not safe either. Also, you'll look like crap, and how can you expect to put on a good show if your skin is flaking off? It's pretty off-putting to most people."

.

"But... why would we want to be safe? You always say danger is fun."

.

"Just because we're criminals doesn't mean we have to be _stupid_ criminals, Jester," he smiled fondly and reached his arms out for the kid.

.

"Now c'm here. Why don't we watch a movie instead. You'd like that, won't you?" the Joker had a strange look in his eyes as he watched his son struggle with his new-found condition. It wasn't pity or regret, but it was... _something._

.

"Oooooh! Can we watch Stitches?! I fucking _love_ that clown! He's sooooo funny!" Harry grinned from ear to ear --not that he had much choice-- and happily went to sit on his dad's lap as his dad toweled his hair properly dry for him.

.

"Language!" the Joker admonished him, giving him a small smack over the head that Jester barely even felt.

.

"But sure thing, kiddo. It's still in the tv from last time I think," he tossed the remote control to his son and chuckled.

.

Harry grinned again, already forgetting about the annoyance of the shower and his weird lack of sensations.

.

* * *

.

Batman frowned and poked a few buttons on his Batcomputer, replaying the song over and over.

.

Something was wrong. Off.

.

This was _not_ how the Joker operated. There was always some kind of game with the clown, but usually the game made more sense!

.

Not only did he receive that strange song a few days ago, with nothing but a time and a date written on it, but now he'd received what he could only perceive as the madman's version of a Valentine's Day card. On Valentine's day none the less!

.

The clown did have a tendency to flirt with him, but he always assumed that was something he did to make him uncomfortable. Usually it worked. 

.

 _'Sometimes more than others,'_ he thought as he remembered the embarrassing episode where the clown had slapped his ass at the Asylum. [[4]](https://batman.fandom.com/wiki/Batman_Wiki)

.

He didn't even want to contemplate the uncomfortable feelings _that_ had brought up in him.

.

But this card... There was something horribly wrong with it!

.

It held absolutely _no_ clues. Non!

.

He had scanned it for chemicals, blood, any and all kinds of residues... And yet... **_nothing!_**

.

Just a single, generic card with a knife stabbed through a heart drawn on it, and a box of un-poisoned, untainted, pure chocolate.

.

Incidentally his favorite type... That was the scary part.

.

 _How_ could he _possibly_ know **_that?!_**

.

Even **_if_** the man knew he was Bruce Wayne --unlikely but not impossible, considering the incredibly high intelligence and unpredictability of the man-- he had _never_ told _anyone_ that he loved this particular brand! Not even Alfred!

.

It was, in all fairness, something of a guilty pleasure to him. One he did not indulge in too often, as he had to stay healthy and fit to be able to live the demanding life he did.

.

What was even _stranger_ was that not even his high tech equipment could find the slightest thing out of place with either the chocolate, the box, or the wrapping paper!

.

The only chemical traces he found was in the lipstick kiss-mark over the Joker's signature on the card itself. And the only thing _that_ told him was which brand of surprisingly generic lipstick the Joker wore.

.

 _'Well... at least he's safer to kiss than Poison Ivy,'_ he thought in a moment of gallows humor. 

.

And why on _earth_ did **_that_** thought enter his head?!

.

Maybe Alfred was right. 

.

Maybe he had been obsessing a bit _too_ much about the Joker lately. Maybe he just needed some proper rest. Or focus on something else for a while.

.

But after the Joker's latest escape from Arkham, and when one considered all the strange and horrible things that usually happened whenever the clown was on the loose, it was hard not to.

.

He opened a drawer and pulled out the carefully sealed bag with a single letter inside it.

.

Was there perhaps a clue in the letter he had received earlier this month? Were they linked somehow?

.

He hadn't thought much of it at the time... It had seemed like a joke to him when it came. But it was very typical of the Joker, right down to the creepy flirting. And that type of thing never seemed to hold any actual meaning, besides making him uncomfortable.

.

But now, with the chocolate, and the --of all things-- _purple_ roses he'd received --all of them tested and re-tested and came up clean-- he felt like there was _something_ he was missing.

.

He laid the letter flat on the desk and read it again.

.

.

 _"O Beauty! dost thou generate from Heaven or from Hell?_

 _Within thy glance, so diabolic and divine,_

 _Confusedly both wickedness and goodness dwell,_

 _And hence one might compare thee unto sparkling wine._

 _._

 _Thy look containeth both the dawn and sunset stars,_

 _Thy perfumed musk, as upon a sultry night exhale,_

 _Thy love taps a philter, and thy mouth a Grecian vase,_

 _That renders villains cowardly and infants hale."_

.

.

It went on and on for several more verses, and he had quickly identified it as a poem from _Les Fleur de Mal_ \--The Flowers of Evil. 

.

A collection of poems by one Charles Baudelaire. French writer.

.

There were, of course, a few alterations to it. Most noticeably the fact that the original poem was written for a female, and the Joker had twisted it to work for a man. 

.

Secondly there were a few more -- personal touches. Like his reference to 'love taps' --the Joker's way of describing Batman beating him up-- instead of kisses. Not to mention using 'villains' instead of the original 'heroes'.

.

He had to admit he was just a little bit impressed, if not surprised, at the man's intellectual pursuits. He actually had to look up one or two words in the dictionary himself, considering the old-fashioned way it was written.

.

...he felt just a little disturbed at the way the Joker had used the word 'Philter'. [[5]](https://batman.fandom.com/wiki/Batman_Wiki)

.

And the translation of it was not an _exact_ match any of the known translations... some words were a bit..off. In a way that suggested he had actually translated it off an original french copy --something he had not expected either. The Joker spoke French. [[6]](https://batman.fandom.com/wiki/Batman_Wiki)

.

Or perhaps he had gotten someone else to translate it... But no. That didn't fit his M.O. 

Batman could not imagine someone like the Joker making someone else translate a sappy love poem for him. It just...wasn't him.

.

Then again....

.

He looked over the 'gifts' he had been receiving lately.

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...neither was this.

.

He felt a small sting in his heart at that thought. That maybe he didn't know the Joker as well as he _thought_ he did. Or that he somehow had _changed._

.

The thought tasted like bile on his tongue. There was just something... _wrong_...with the Joker changing. He had always been the _**one**_ constant in his life, apart from maybe Alfred.

.

Not that the clown didn't change on a daily basis, but this was different. There had always been certain consistency to him, no matter _what_ he decided to be that day. Something that underlined his very being and made Batman recognize the Joker as _The **Joker!**_

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But his flirting had always been more teasing, and he always assumed it was just something he did to irritate Batman. But this....?!

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 _'Maybe I just don't like change. Or maybe it's because I dislike not being able to predict what he'll do next if I don't know him as well as I thought I did. Not that he was all that predictable to begin with.'_

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Whatever the reason was, Batman felt compelled to accept the recent invitation from him. He had to find out what had changed...or what he didn't know.

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It wasn't an obsession. It _wasn't!_

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No matter what Alfred said!

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It was just very, _very_ important for the safety of the citizens that he knew _everything_ about that damned lunatic!

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....fuck...

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He didn't even _think_ about the hostages!

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The Joker had so _clearly_ hinted at some kind of top brass people --maybe even the mayor, maybe more-- would be hurt. He could almost _hear_ the underlying threat to their lives in that damned song!

.

And if he didn't go, he'd never know what the maniac had done, who he had kidnapped, or where he had placed any bombs, if there even were bombs. You never knew with the Joker. It might be something worse!

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Bruce felt the guilt rise up in his gut like an old friend.

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What kind of person was he if he felt that gathering information on the Joker was more important than the lives of an unknown amount of people?!

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* * *

.

"Welcome!" 

.

The Joker was standing on the rooftop before him, his purple tail-coat fluttering in the wind. 

Even on a bad day the Joker dressed well, but today he seemed to have taken it to a whole new level.

.

He had gone with his more classical, iconic look, and was sporting those old-fashioned purple pants that most likely was held up by suspenders, rather than a belt, a deep green shirt, and a brilliant orange west. All looked cleaned and pressed. Strangely pristine.

.

The whole thing was topped off with black leather shoes that were polished to a shine, and covered in white spats of a quality you just didn't find in any modern stores --indicating he might have had everything on his tailor-made. And, as he so often did, he wore a Kentucky string tie.

.

His green hair fell halfway to his shoulder on one side, and was slicked back on the other.

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If those colors had been worn by anyone else, or in _any_ other way, they would have looked ridiculous. The same could be said for the horribly outdated fashion that belonged to the 40's rather than the modern age. 

.

But somehow the Joker always managed to pull off the look with an impeccable sense of fashion, and what looked good on him, as well as a pose and confidence that made you think that the guy would probably look amazing even if all he wore was a garbage bag.

.

Not that he was handsome in the traditional sense of the word. His face was too long and narrow, his nose a little bit big, and the glascow grin on his face painted with a brilliant red lipstick made his grin resemble that of a shark.

.

And yet for all of this Bruce could not help but feel the psychotic clown put every pretty model he had ever been with to shame. Somehow --perhaps his animated, expressive face and his slim yet muscular body and the way he moved like a predator on the prowl-- made him far more beautiful than any man Bruce had ever seen.

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It was _not_ a healthy train of thought.

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Batman shot a glare at the clown before his eyebrows rose underneath his mask at the scene before him.

.

There were a round, almost Parisian table set up on top of the roof they were on, and it was decked out in what would only be described as a romantic acid-trip. It was slightly bigger than the average tables of that type, but it had to be to fit everything that was on it.

.

There was a rather nice, red tablecloth --much to Batman's surprise, as the Joker rarely used that color--, decorated with purple roses, green and purple napkins, and a selection of dishes that unsettled Bruce more than the decoration did. 

.

Because every single dish on the table was amongst his favorite foods, and some of the desserts were what he considered his guilty pleasure and rarely, if ever ate. But ones that he still loved.

.

He felt a chill run down his spine as he considered the implications. If he had any doubts before, they were all gone now.

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 **"Why?"** his voice was the voice of the Bat, as low as ever, but with an unfamiliar note of confusion tugging at its edges.

.

"Why what? The candles? The romantic dinner? The starlight setting just _**ripe**_ for a nice explosion?" the Joker grinned.

.

 **"Why the rouse?! What's your game?!"** he growled out.

.

"Oh, Batsy, Batsy, Batsy~" he leaned back and laughed delighted. "Why do I ever do **_anything?!"_** he stated gleefully.

.

 **"You wouldn't go through all this trouble just to have me toss you back into Arkham."**

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"True," his smile turned mischievously wicked.

.

"I've hidden bombs. Aaaaaall over that nice little societal party below us!"

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 _ **"I knew it!"**_ Batman snarled and rushed over to grab Joker by the collar of his shirt with one hand, running the other hand through his pockets to find the remote.

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The Joker merely laughed.

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"You didn't think **_I_** was the only one with a remote control, did you?" he grinned and patted Batman's cheek. 

.

Those black pinpoints in the middle of the poisonous green orbs widened just a fraction, like they always did when Batman stared him down. But the clown never so much as flinched. 

.

"No, no, no. I have a helper! Of course, you can't see him, no matter how much you look! And don't worry, darling~ I made sure he's far enough away for us to have some... _privacy~_ " he breathed out the last sinful word and licked his lips, causing Batman to recoil from him as if he'd touched flames.

.

He looked up at Batman with so much _fondness_ that it almost hurt to watch. However, the mad amusement written on his face helped to distract him from lingering on that thought too long.

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"Come on, Bats. I went through all this trouble, just for you! Let's just have a nice, romantic meal together, and I'll let all those silly little people go. Nobody will even know and you can feel all good and noble. Isn't that what you want?"

.

Batman sent the madman another glare, but went to sit over at the only other chair at the table.

For now, he had no choice but to play the maniac's game. At least until he could figure out how to get those bombs disarmed.

.

Trouble was... he didn't exactly know where they were, or who had the remote. And he feared that if he did anything remotely suspicious, the psychotic clown would have the whole building _\--with them on it--_ blown up!

.

 **"...."**

.

"What? Not even a 'Thank You'? And I was soooo nice and didn't kill _anyone!_ Yet." the Joker's eyes twinkled with mischievous joy.

.

 **"........"**

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 **"Thank you,"** Batman gritted out between clenched teeth. 

.

The words tasted sour in his mouth, but even he had to admit it was nice of the Joker to not hurt any innocents... even if this whole thing was nothing more than a game to the psychotic clown before him.

.

It made him all the more suspicious as to what the clown had cooked up _this_ time!

.

The Joker beamed up at him as if he'd won some kind of prize, and placed the napkin in his lap, then gestured for Batman to help himself first. A surprising show of table-manners that Batman did not know the clown possessed. Paired with what seemed to be the knowledge that Batman would never trust anything the clown handed to him personally. It was almost... thoughtful.

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 _'Always expect the unexpected indeed.'_[[7]](https://batman.fandom.com/wiki/Batman_Wiki)

.

He put his own napkin in his lap, then scanned the food for poison before he put a small portion onto his own plate.

.

Since the Joker seemed to be in such a good mood, maybe this would be a good time to get some information out of him. 

.

At least he could try. And this was a topic that had been bothering him for a while now.

.

 **"You have a son,"** he stated. But his tone indicated the underlying 'How the fuck did _that_ happen?!'

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"Ah, yes. The joy of my life, the apple of my eye, and all that jazz," Joker paused to dramatically pretend to wipe away a tear.

.

"Hehehe, you wouldn't _believe_ what he last week!" the Joker's voice was giddy with excitement as he shared the story about his son. His voice laced with true passion, the same way he had seen from any ordinary father, telling him what their own offspring had recently done.

.

Batman could do nothing but stare at the clown in shock as he launched into a long-winded anecdote about his son trying to ride one of the hyenas --and the less than ideal result thereof.

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He also underlined how absolutely adorable he thought it was. Batman was less sure if _that_ was normal. At least when you considered the topic was how his son almost got mauled by a semi-wild hyena.

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"....of course, I had to sacrifice my arm to stop him from being bitten, but it's hardly the first time I've sacrificed my arm for someone!" he laughed and pulled up the sleeve of his suit and shirt to show him what looked like week-old bite-marks from what could very well be hyenas.

.

Batman also knew exactly what the Joker was referring to. [[17]](https://batman.fandom.com/wiki/Batman_Wiki)

.

"They were just warning him, of course. Otherwise they'd snap my arm in half. Vicious little bugger that they are," he grinned happily, sounding every bit as every other father Bruce had the misfortune to meet at a party.

.

 **"You almost sound like you care,"** Batman said, scanning him for telltale signs of a lie.

.

"Oh, but I do, Batsy, dear. **_I do!"_** he laughed, "What? You don't think I would honestly keep a kid around for this long if I didn't? Do you even know how _irritating_ children can be?!"

.

Batman furrowed his brows --not that it was visible under his mask.

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 **"HOW can you care?! You have no empathy,"** Batman stated.

.

"Nonsens! How would I ever enjoy people's fear if I didn't have empathy? My fun would be no fun at all if I couldn't imagine what people _feel!"_ the Joker leaned back with a wide grin and spread his hands and fingers wide to make a point.

.

"I just don't have any _sympathy!"_ he paused, "Well... Not for most people anyway," he looked up at Batman and waggled his eyebrows in a way that suggested Batman was the exception he was talking about.

.

 **"You say that like it's a good thing."**

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"Of course it is! Why waste whatever love I have in this shriveled up, blackened heart of mine on a bunch of idiots who can't even be bothered to pick up a phone when they see someone being murdered right in front of them? Heck! Some of them even cheer for the killer!" [[8]](https://batman.fandom.com/wiki/Batman_Wiki)

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 **"That's not true,"** Batman said, but even to him it sounded weak.

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"Oh, darling.... If you only _knew_ what people do to save their own buttocks! And, believe me, sweet-cheeks, ** _I do."_** the words were spoken with the conviction of someone who had seen it happen time and time again.

.

Which the Joker probably had. He was twisted enough to get a kick out of making someone do horrible things to someone else, under the pretense that he'd let them live if they did. And maybe he'd even keep that promise. Which was almost worse.

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 **"...."** Batman just glared at him. There _were_ good people in the world. He _knew_ there were! He had trained some of them himself! He had to believe there were. That not everyone was as bad as the Joker made them out to be. Not _everyone_ would sink to _his_ level.

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"Y'know... I miss the time when you used to joke around with me. Remember that, Batsy? Back when you made those puns when you punched me, or stole my weapons... We sure had a lot of fun back then, didn't we?" the Joker wiggled his eyebrows at this and Batman wasn't sure if he should laugh or be annoyed.

.

"You even _smiled_ when I almost fell into that bubbling cauldron! And then you saved me! That's when I knew we were meant to be!"[[9]](https://batman.fandom.com/wiki/Batman_Wiki)

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 ** _"Your_ cauldron,"** batman reminded him, but he couldn't help quirking his lip in amusement at the memory. 

.

The Joker dangling over the cauldron of boiling oil that Batman had just saved his latest victims from-- The Joker begging him to rescue him-- 

.

That _had_ been funny. And a little cute. In an ironic sort of way.

.

"Hah! There's that beautiful smile!" the Joker clapped his hands, a look of childish joy brandished on his face as he leaned closer, which only make Batman's lips tug up even more.

.

"I'm swooning~" Joker suddenly fell backward while he clasped his heart with one hand and placed the other on his forehead in a dramatic gesture. His chair tilted backward on two legs, before it tipped over and the clown fell to the floor, laughing even as his head hit the concrete roof.

.

It was getting harder and harder to not laugh at the clown's antics. He could be very funny-- when he wasn't actively threatening people's lives.

.

Batman glared at his food. Had the Joker put something in it? He felt far too relaxed around the clown. It was unnatural. And dangerous. 

.

But a second scan still showed no signs of any poison, toxins, or chemicals of any kind. In fact, based on the composition of the food, it seemed to be mostly organically sourced, which was not something he'd expect from the clown. 

.

Then again, the Joker could have realized that Batman would have refused to touch anything with any hint of chemicals in it... or maybe he just wanted to serve him the best food money could buy...

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 _'Never forget who you're dealing with. Don't make the same mistake as his victims did. Never trust him!'_

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Then he looked over at the clown's plate and frowned.

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 **"Why are you only eating the shrimps?"** his suspicions shot up by miles and he put his fork down.

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"Oh, Batsy, Batsy, Bat... Always so suspicious~" Joker seemed more exasperated than amused, but Batman kept glaring.

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"Fine," the Joker sighed.

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"They're the only thing here I can properly **_taste._** Unless I drown it in salt. Or chili-pepper. Happy now?" he tossed down his fork to cross his arms and glared back.[[10]](https://batman.fandom.com/wiki/Batman_Wiki)

.

Batman's eyebrows raised high under the mask, and once again he was thankful that it covered up his expression. Almost. He shut his mouth with a small clack. Not that it had been _that_ bad, but he was sure the Joker had noticed. He was eerily observant sometimes.

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"Laugh all you want," he stated defensively. But his body language indicated that he was terrified of that very thing. Although Batman could not fathom why.[[11]](https://batman.fandom.com/wiki/Batman_Wiki)

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 **"I wasn't...."** Batman started, unsure how to go on. 

.

He didn't want to tell the clown he pitied him either, that would _not_ go over well. And he didn't. It was just...sad. He couldn't even imagine living without tasting Alfred's wonderful cooking. Or how he'd get through those boring society parties if not for the canapes and wine.

.

 **"It must be...difficult,"** he tried a sympathetic angel. 

.

This time it was the Joker's brow that rose at Batman's response.

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"Heh. Falling into chemical waste is no dance on roses mr high-and-mighty. It's not the worst thing it's done to me either. And no, I'm not talking about the beautiful make-over of my oh-so-cheerful new self."

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 **"What do you mean?"** he quickly asked, deciding to take advantage of the rare bout of seriousness and apparent honesty from the clown.

.

"What? You think this pretty white skin is just for show? Touch it!" he held his arm out, and Batman made a point to scan it for chemicals before he pulled his gloves off. The scan came up with something strange, but it didn't appear dangerous to touch.

.

The man's skin felt soft. Softer than he had expected. And there didn't seem to be any traces of hair on it. But aside from that...

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"I don't feel anything..." Batman said, confused.

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"Neither do I," the Joker gave him an almost sad, resigned smile and Bruce felt a tug at his heartstrings.

.

 **"Nothing?"** Batman said, his fist clenched around his arm, making the Joker chuckle.

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"Use your nails a bit more and maybe it'll tickle, but that's about it. Unless you make me bleed, of course. I do _so_ love your little love-taps~" he licked his lips in a hungry way that Batman felt going straight south in a very dangerous way.

.

"When I fell into that vat of Chemicals...." he furrowed his brow, clearly uncomfortable with sharing anything personal. 

.

Bruce _wanted_ to ask, but he couldn't risk the Joker clamming up on him now, and if he said anything, he just might. So he merely looked at him encouragingly. He knew that if he was silent long enough the Joker would keep talking just to fill the gap.

.

"The first thing I remember was the burning. Like my entire body was on **_fire!"_** he paused, " _I'm not sure that ever really left,_ " he muttered the last bit, almost to himself. If Batman didn't have such a good hearing, he might have missed it.

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"The next thing... I felt numb. It's like..." he paused, looking for the right words.

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"You know when you stand too close to an explosion. When it's over all you can hear is a ringing in your ears and every sound seem to...vanish," he quirked a smile. The clown had caused more than his share of them, and sometimes he hadn't been far enough away. 

.

Batman knew the feeling all too well.

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"You can _almost_ make out the sounds. In the same way I can _almost_ feel the world around me," he laughed as he spoke, but it was filled with such pain... It hurt to listen to it. Batman quickly suppressed the rising need to comfort him.

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 _"Muted. **Dimmed.**_ It's like a curtain between me and the world...." his voice was a shallow whisper, and his arms were hugging himself as he looked away to the side, lost in his own mind. It sounded like something he never intended to share. Something rough and raw and vulnerable.

.

Batman struggled to make out what he said, but he managed. It made him feel...just a bit sorry for the man sitting across the table from him.

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A table filled with delicious food that the other man could never even taste... Everything on it handpicked for Batman's sake, rather than his own...

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"On the flip side I can see _everything_ going on around me, at all times. Every tiny little detail. I can hear it too." he poked at his head and grinned, but the smile never quite reached his eyes.

.

"Even if it did scramble my brain a little. _Hehehe..."_ he let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a giggle.

.

And Batman suddenly remembered what that shrink at Arkham said. 

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She had told him that one time --when the Joker had taken it over and demanded him to come-- that the Joker had no _filter_ to the outside world. He experienced every minuscule detail at all time. Every tiny detail. All it once.

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He also knew from experience that the Joker's head was filled with an amalgamate of voices --thoughts-- that all screamed for his attention.

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He couldn't even begin to fathom the chaos and pain that must be the Joker's constant existence.

.

He briefly wondered if wearing clothes irritated the man, but then he remembered that he probably couldn't even feel the fabric.

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Sitting there in his high-quality Batsuit, going home later to sleep in his luxurious high thread count Egyptian cotton sheets and soft, supporting mattress, perhaps after eating some of Alfred's gourmet cooking-- He could not even _imagine_ how horrible it might be to not feel or taste anything.

.

Then a thought hit him.

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 **"Harley fell into the same thing too, didn't she?"** Or maybe he pushed her in...

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He wondered if that was why she could take a beating like no one else, except the Joker. Why it never bothered her when the Joker slapper her around or beat her up. Although it was obvious to him that it hurt her.

.

Maybe it was the wrong thing to say, because the Joker suddenly looked guarded and hostile. Was that jealousy flashing in his eyes?

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 **"I mean... I always wondered why the two of you don't seem to feel pain..."** he rushed out, looking a bit flustered. A very unusual look for the big bad bat.

.

Perhaps that was why the Joker seemed to relax and tell him more.

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"It was her choice..." he muttered, shaking his head. His eyes held a strange emotion he could not quite place, but it was not a happy one.[[12]](https://batman.fandom.com/wiki/Batman_Wiki)

.

"Harley never breathed it in. Never drowned in it. Never drank it down like poisoned wine," the Joker looked a strange mix between envious and relieved at this fact.

.

"Jes..." he bit his tongue, stopping himself from saying whatever he almost slipped up saying. But from the look on his face it was something painful to him.

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"No. She can taste and smell just fine," he said, _"Lucky bitch,"_ he muttered under his breath, making Batman unsure if he should laugh or pity him.

.

But it also indicated that Harley couldn't feel the world any more than he could. Which answered his question.

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"But enough about this sappy stuff!" he suddenly clapped his hands together and sat up straight. 

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Batman felt confused at the sudden mood-change, as well as a strange sense of loss when the other man pulled his hand back from his grip. 

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He hadn't even realized he'd been holding onto the man's arm during his entire story....

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"Let's talk about something cheerful! Let's talk about us! You and me, Bats, and a bottle of wine~" he teased and leaned over the table to refill Batman's glass with the darkly red liquid that was one of his own favorites.

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 **"What's there to talk about?"**

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"Awww... C'm on! Don't be like that! I remember a time when you were eager to talk to me about us!" he reached out with the lightning speed of a cobra and grabbed Batman's hand, leaning over the table to do so, before fluttering his eyelashes at him.

.

This close up he noticed that even his eyelashes were green. 

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 **"There's no 'us'."** he said, pulling his hand back, glaring at the clown.

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The Joker merely leaned back in his own seat and laughed. As if he knew something Batman didn't.

.

His mood-changes were every bit as quick and unpredictable as the man himself. At this speed, Bruce was going to end up with an emotional whiplash.

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"Hey, Batsy... Remember that time we laughed together in the rain?" he smiled a nostalgic smile, trying to lighten the mood. But then he seemed almost sad at the memory.

.

Batman understood why. How could he not?

.

 _'Let me help you'_

 _'It's far too late for that.'_

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 _'This reminds me of a Joke...'_

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The memory flashed in Batman's mind.

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 _'You can walk across the light beam and join me.'_

 _'You'll just turn it off when I'm halfway across.'_[[13]](https://batman.fandom.com/wiki/Batman_Wiki)

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 _ **"Joker..."**_ Batman reached across the table and took the Joker's pale hand into his own, giving it a hard squeeze so the man could feel it, which elicited a wry smile from the clown.

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"Did you truly mean it?" he asked, and Batman's eyes widened. Was he... did he mean the rehabilitation? To not fight anymore, or...?

.

The Joker slid his thumb across Batman's larger hand, even though he could not possibly feel the caress himself. 

.

An almost soft smile fluttered across his red lips and died, as the other hand raked through his green hair, slicking the right side of it back, leaving the rest to hang down to his pronounced cheekbones.

.

"I don't think I _can_ change. Don't expect me to do that!" his hand clasped Batman's, as if it was a lifeline. As if he was scared Batman could pull away any moment.

.

"But..." he sighed, "I like the sound of that word... **_Together..."_**

.

He looked up and captured Batman's eyes with his own, making him feel like he was drowning in those poisonous green pools, whose pupils even now expanded for him like they always did. 

.

 _Only ever for him._

.

He had always attributed it to the excitement the Joker felt. Or some perverted sense of _'fun'_... Or...something, _anything_ but **_this!_**

.

 _'But I always ignored the fact that what I saw those black points expand with... was Love'_[[14]](https://batman.fandom.com/wiki/Batman_Wiki)

.

That was it, wasn't it? 

Now that he had thought it, it was so obvious...

.

 _ **"Of course I'll help you! Be there! Whatever you need!"**_ Batman said, grasping onto the Joker's hand with his own the way he grasped onto that small glimmer of hope that maybe, just _maybe_ he could _help_ him. _Save him!_

.

He couldn't save him that day in the factory. It was _his_ fault the man who had once been Jack had become the Joker. The guilt had been gnawing at him ever since. [[15]](https://batman.fandom.com/wiki/Batman_Wiki)

.

How many lives could have been spared? The Joker's own life included...

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 _'He is **my** responsibly.'_[[16]](https://batman.fandom.com/wiki/Batman_Wiki)

.

And if he _could_ save him. Rehabilitate him... The Joker might not believe it was possible, but if he was willing to _try.._..

.

Batman's intense gaze drilled into the Joker's, yet the Joker never gave an inch, never flinched. He had seen Batman at his worst, most violent, even _felt it_ himself... and yet he never _feared_ him!

.

It was not a safe train of thought.

.

However, the clown's eyes stared back with a mirthful obsession that he wondered how he could have possibly missed before.

.

"Why so glum, chum?" Joker joked, trying to lighten the mood again, but made no move to remove his hand.... rather held onto it like a man drowning.

.

Batman took it as a sign that maybe, deep down, the man before him truly _wanted_ his help. **_Needed_** it!

.

And Batman was not going to fail him. Not again!

.

And there was that strange rhythmic thumping in his chest every time the Joker was near him... That strange warmth when he smiled the rare, honest smile... the same he was now sending his way.

.

Batman could not help but smile back....

.

* * *

* * *

.

.

 **[[1]](https://batman.fandom.com/wiki/Batman_Wiki) A vague allusion to the BIG SECRET in Three Jokers. YOU try and write a psychologically accurate fanfic without spoilers in it. lol**

 **.**

 **.**

 **[[2]](https://batman.fandom.com/wiki/Batman_Wiki) The Teddy named Bruce was a gift to the Joker to control his stress when they decided to try regression therapy. He couldn't exactly name it Batman, or Batsy, so he named him Bruce. And YES, he knows. He's known for a hella long time too. But he's protected the secret for even longer.**

 **(See the issue with the Smiling Fish, for instance. I mean, the really OLD one.)**

.

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 **[[3]](https://batman.fandom.com/wiki/Batman_Wiki) I have seen the Joker escape because he twisted someone's mind and drove them insane repeatedly, and even seen him bribe people to do him favors while he was in Arkham... but I haven't seen him break out as much as a single time without outside help. (He might have done so, but I haven't seen it yet. Not from Arkham. Only in the very beginning when he was locked up in Blackgate, before he was deemed insane.) (See Killer Smile for an example. Or Harleen. Or Mad Love.)**

.

.

 **[[4]](https://batman.fandom.com/wiki/Batman_Wiki) Reference to the mind-blowing scene in Batman: Arkham Asylum where the Joker either grabbed or slapped Batman's ass and told him to "Loose up, tight-ass". (The comic, not the game.)**

.

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 **[[5]](https://batman.fandom.com/wiki/Batman_Wiki) Philter = a potion, drug, or charm held to have the power to arouse sexual passion.**

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 **[[6]](https://batman.fandom.com/wiki/Batman_Wiki) Yupp, the Joker speaks french. He also have a cult-following in Paris. (Batman: Europe)**

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 **[[7]](https://batman.fandom.com/wiki/Batman_Wiki) Batman said that to ...Alfred I think... that the one thing he had learned when it came to dealing with the Joker was to always expect the unexpected. Because he doesn't HAVE an M.O.**

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 **The Joker does what he feels like, when he feels like doing it. He's impulsive, yet he also can be extremely patient. He can plan for months or even years...then change his mind half-way through and drop it. (Like he did when he killed Gordon's wife, because she was foolish enough to try and stop him instead of waiting for Batman to come. Personally I think he regretted it. He DOES seem to respect Gordon. Not gonna go into why just here tho. But feel free to ask about anything in your comments.)**

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 **[[8]](https://batman.fandom.com/wiki/Batman_Wiki) The Joker is right, btw. The first part of his statement is what is known as Bystander Apathy. Which essentially means that when in a crowd, pretty much nobody is gonna step up and DO something when they witness someone else getting hurt. Everyone just expects someone else will do so they don't have too. **

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 **The second part... That happens a lot when Batman fights the Joker, actually. (One scene from Harleen really stands out in that respect...and haunts Harley.)**

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 **And in real life there is plenty of calling for someone's blood, if that someone had done something that they consider despicable. Especially if it hits them personally.**

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 **Humans are --deep down-- nothing but savage beasts. Put them in the right situation and even the kindest person on earth turn into a monster. (I have seen many studies showing this, and exceptionally few --if any at all-- seems to avoid doing so.) (I've also seen a super-kind person who can't even kill bugs go crazy with road rage.)**

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 **[[9]](https://batman.fandom.com/wiki/Batman_Wiki) In the earliest Batman comics, he and the Joker had a LOT of quipping matches, and they both had puns at the end of nearly every sentence sometimes.**

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 **The boiling oil scene is from Batman the Animated Series. It should be on YouTube, at least a clip of it.**

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 **[[10]](https://batman.fandom.com/wiki/Batman_Wiki) My theory is that the acid bath he fell into fucked up his taste-buds in a similar way to what they did to his skin. Perhaps not AS bad... But certainly enough that the flavors of everything he eats is muted, perhaps even twisted and changed.**

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 **I admit my theory that his taste-buds being fried are a LITTLE shaky. Based purely on logic over canon as well. I he does eats pizza somewhere, and not JUST shrimps and Whiskey. Although you very rarely see him eat anything, much less enjoy it.**

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 **That said, considering how rarely the Joker seems to eat, and the kind of junk he eats when he DO eat (which seems to be picked based on what's easy over what tastes good), I think the theory has some plausibility to it.**

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 **Of course, the Joker tend to be over-dramatic. And it should be mentioned that he IS a damned good liar. Telling his truth from his lies is damned near impossible, and you have to look to his actions paired with the situation, facial expression and word-choice to actually figure out what's what. And for all that he seems to be MOSTLY honest with Batman, everything he says should always be taken with a pinch of salt.**

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 **I think the ONLY person he is 100% honest with is Harley. Maybe because she's 100% loyal and never, ever judges. (And even then he omits things, tells her very little and communicates more through facial expressions than words spoken.)**

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 **[[11]](https://batman.fandom.com/wiki/Batman_Wiki) The Joker's recurring nightmare is indeed that Batman laughs at him. Although it COULD be the setting as well. I'm not 100% sure. However, Death Row doesn't scare him. Dying doesn't scare him. He act as if he's doing the greatest show of his life, and enjoying every bit of it. ONLY Batman laughing AT him --at the end of the dream-- scares him.**

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 **[[12]](https://batman.fandom.com/wiki/Batman_Wiki) Referring to what Harley thought after she dived into the chemical waste (I think it was in Suicide Squad, the comic). She thought that the Joker would have been happy, but there was SOMETHING in his eyes she couldn't quite figure out. My personal guess is either regret or sadness for her. Like he didn't want her to suffer like he had, but he also couldn't stop it from happening. Or stop himself from pushing her to do it.**

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 **[[13]](https://batman.fandom.com/wiki/Batman_Wiki) Referring here of course to what he said in the Killing Joke. If it wasn't blatantly obvious, the joke seem to be about THEM, about Batman's offer to rehabilitate the Joker. I WILL however, admit I am unsure which character is which, but it seems possible that it is Joker who is scared of crossing because Batman will turn off the 'Flashlight', the 'Light'. This view is helped by the fact that the Flashlight won't do jack shit to help anyone cross over to the other building. So even if he DID trust the other person, he'd STILL fall. Making the gesture one that was made in good faith but impossible to keep.**

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 **Batman GOT the joke then. But the laughter they shared... I sincerely doubt it was a happy one. Then again, the Joker rarely, if ever, laugh because he's happy. He laughs for MANY different reason, but I think he might have forgotten how to laugh joyfully.**

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 **[[14]](https://batman.fandom.com/wiki/Batman_Wiki) The line about the Joker's pupil widening just for him, and it was love, is a direct quote from End Game. The point Batman FINALLY realize that the Joker loves him. Obviously, this fic is set BEFORE end game. I was thinking maybe right before Death of the Family, partly because I had a fun idea on the problem with his whole Face-OFF situation. Or rather, how the heck he got it back ON.**

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 **[[15]](https://batman.fandom.com/wiki/Batman_Wiki) Referring to the fact that Jack Napier (name confirmed in Three Jokers) fell into the vat of chemical waste because Batman either spooked him or kicked him over the fence. (Depending on which version you read) And Batman always felt horribly guilty over that.**

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 **[[16]](https://batman.fandom.com/wiki/Batman_Wiki) He has mentioned before --more than once I think-- how he feels the Joker is HIS responsibility. Possibly because of the above-mentioned reason. Not to mention the fact that he may even feel HE caused the Joker decent into insanity and ruined his life. (Not entirely true, but Batman feels guilty about just about everything. That is a part of HIS insanity. And yes, he is every bit as messed up as the Joker. Just not the same way.) **

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 **(Note that Batman DID have a hand in it. Both the shit with his wife AND the acid vat. But he could not have been able to guess just how much it would affect him. Nor stop it.)**

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 **[[17]](https://batman.fandom.com/wiki/Batman_Wiki) In A War of Jokes and Riddles, he sacrificed said arm for Batman's sake. Ask if you want the full story, it's a MAJOR spoiler.**

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 **Psychoanalytic Theory #005 - Joker:**

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 **I think the biggest irony about the Joker is that he --deep, DEEP down-- is an idealist and a romantic. (Read Going Sane. His past has also been hinted at to be the one with the wife and child we know so well. And how their loss broke him. Read Superman: Emperor Joker for his idealistic views.)**

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 **Back before he became the Joker all he wanted was love, a family and to make people laugh... and that hasn't changed. Although HOW he wants to do it HAS, because his view of the world changed. (And his vision is filled with a deep hatred for ALMOST everything.)**

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 **(Note that the Joker's past IS still a bit up in the air. The ONLY things we know for sure is that he HAD a wife who was pregnant, and that his name is Jack Napier. But almost every version of his past portrays him as loving his wife and kid very much.)**

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 **Interestingly enough, he HAS picked up a couple of (brainwashed/manipulated) children over the years. Mainly in the Animated Series. And he seems rather found of Harley's 'Babies'. (Hyenas.)**

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 **I have no doubt he'd easily kill children in a heartbeat, but he does seem to...pity...them more than he does adults. (Like is the wrong word. Pity is not exact either... I can't quite find the word to describe it. And he did once kills a boy-scout troupe with poisoned cotton candy. He also talked to a bunch of babies how they'd thank him for killing them so they wouldn't have to experience the pain and misery of the world.)**

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 **This is an interesting tidbit of a hypothesis, but one I think might be accurate:**

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 **The Joker is RIGHT when he says Batman NEEDS him. Or at the very least WANT him there.**

 **It's nothing overly profound about it, but the Joker is an outlet for all of Batman's rage, and --more importantly-- he NEVER FEELS BAD for beating the Joker to within an inch of his life. He didn't even feel bad when he put him in a full body-cast and stuffed him full of pills that sent him into a coma.**

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 **Although he seemed a bit worried about the Joker afterwards. It's subtle, but it's there. Like him studying the pills to find out what's in them. And him hanging outside the Joker's window to check up on him once he was awake and back in his cell.**

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 **(I realized this when I remembered what my last bf told me... He had anger management problems amongst a few other...mental issues... and he pointed out that me being so freakin' annoying was one of the things he likes most about me. For the exact reason I mentioned about. Yeah, I never claimed to be sane. I'm in love with the Joker after all. *Laughs*)**

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 **The Joker is a strange combination of a reliable, funny, romantic-- and a sadistic homicidal maniac with questionable sanity, and someone who can't be trusted any further than you can throw him. (Although Batman can throw him pretty far... Just sayin'.)**

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 **Of course, everything he IS gets twisted and filtered through his hatred for the entire human race, plus he is obsessive, possibly bi-polar, possibly psychotic and definitely sadistic... so every single thing about him is a twisted Fun House mirror version of what most people would consider 'good' qualities.**

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 **When he loves, he loves passionately, with every fiber of his being, and he lives and breaths for the person he loves. He also corrupts everything he touches --not always intentionally-- and he hurts the ones he loves more than ANYONE else. (Even when he's holding back, like in Death of the family. He could have killed or disfigured those that Batman loved --SHOULD have, and normally WOULD have-- but he didn't.)**

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 **(In Emperor Joker this comes out in how he torments Batman with everything he got --which is insanely much in THIS comic-- and he STILL expects Batman to break free. And honestly... I get the distinct feeling he does it because he wants Batman to stop him. And make Batman hate him enough to actually KILL him.)**

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 **The Joker is HIGHLY Empathetic. He UNDERSTAND what other people feel, and what he would feel if he was them. That's why he loves people's fear so much. He can envision how they must feel and he loves it! (I may be projecting, but I strongly suspect I'm right about this. And, of course, there's the whole array of WHY he loves people's fear so much, which I won't cover here.)**

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 **What he lacks is Sympathy-- the ability to feel SORRY for them, to feel PITY. Although sometimes he DO. As in Birthday Bugs. He just shows it in a deranged, violent way. Perhaps he doesn't so much lack the ability so much as just not giving a fuck.**

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 **Or maybe... Just MAYBE he DO feel sorry for humans. And that's WHY he kills them.**

 **Like I said; Every single thing he thinks and feels is distorted through his own tormented mind, and the hatred/envy he feels towards the entirety of mankind.**

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 **He also pretty much always keeps his promises.**

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 **Even if MOST his promises is a promise to kill someone. And he RARELY promise anything.**

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 **I have only ever seen him break a promise ONCE, and that was in the very beginning, while he still purely hated Batman, and even then it looked like an impulse rather than a plan.**

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 **Even when he makes a promise to Batman he keeps it. Or maybe especially then. (In The Batman Who Laughs he promised to shoot him if he turned into a crazy maniac. In a mercy kind of way. He kept it, only...he SAVED Batman instead of killing him.)**

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 **He bends over backwards to meet Batman's expectations of him. Although Batman tends to expect the worst from him. But it's been a VERY long time since he did any sort of crime that was not aimed to 'help' Batman. (Makes you wonder how he founds all his crimes. Then again, he rarely pays for anything.)**

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 **He has saved Batman's life on at LEAST 5 different occasions. Likely even more.**

 **And he has saved Batman from himself a few times too.**

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 **I don't remember them all, but he saved Batman from the Red Hood (who was feeling upset Batman chose to save the Joker over him while he was Robin)**

 **He saved Batman from himself (Batman got a bit unhinged) in The Batman Who Laughs.**

 **He stopped him from killing the Riddler in A War of Jokes and Riddles.**

 **I remember him killing someone before Batman could, just so Batman didn't have to.**

 **And I'm pretty sure I've seen several more places where the Joker saved Batman.**

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 **I know he saves his life just as much as his sanity, which is ironic when you think about it.**

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 **Batman, on the other hand, have saved the Joker more times than I can count. And if he is forced to choose between saving someone else or saving the Joker, he chooses the Joker every. Single. TIME! (His little Robins are NOT happy when he saves the Joker over them.)**

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 **The Joker and Batman has also teamed up no less than 15 times over the years. (Might be more than that by now.)**

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 **"We'll make the bestest team ever! Joker and Batman!"**

 **"Batman and Joker" Batman corrected him.**

 **\--Game Over for Owlman, Batman Animated Series.**

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 **Although in Arkham Knight: The Enemy Within will always stand out as one of their best co-operations to me. (Despite the fact I haven't played the game finished yet. lol)**

 **Okay, fine, so it's more a haunting than a co-operation, but hey! *Laughs***

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 **"Take a hint ol' boy. We may have had our differences, but you and me, we're made for eachother." --The Joker, Arkham Knight.**

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 **The Joker also do NOT want to win against Batman. He specifically says that he wants neither of them to win, so that their little game can continue forever. (In The Batman Who Laughs)**

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 **He also shows how much of a romantic he is, at least I feel so, in the way that he states --more than once-- that HE has to die BEFORE Batman does. He get horribly upset at the thought of living in a world without Batman, yet convinced that Batman would be equally unable to live in a world without him. (A theory that I feel is proven in End Game. COULD Batman have saved himself? Yes, I think so. But he chooses to stay with the Joker rather than save himself. If I get any less vague I'm totally gonna spoil the ending, so just ask if you wanna know. lol)**

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 **Also, every single time he thinks Batman is dead, Joker --as the JOKER-- cease to exist. And he becomes something that more or less resembles a well-adjusted citizen. (Although one that may or may not still be sadistic, depending on whether the trauma of Batman's death induces memory loss or not.)**

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 **The Joker's vision of their end is very Romeo and Juliet with a violent twist.**

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 **In all of this tho, it is important to remember that the Joker is NOT a nice guy. He's NOT some misunderstood fluffy lil' bunny. He's the kind of bunny that would chew your fingers off and laugh as he ate your kid for dessert if you were dumb enough to trust him.**

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 **But really... He IS rather sweet and romantic. In a psychotic, homicidal kind of way. (Although keep in mind that what -I- find romantic is things like what happens in the HP fic Horror of Our Love, and the BatJoke fic Sucker For Pain.)**

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 **More on their codependent relationship to come once I've read Batman: Europe.**

 **(Apparently "The sexual tension is palpable" and it "cements the utter dependency both characters have on one another.")**


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